The packhouse had never looked like this.
Gone were the cold halls and austere walls. In their place were fresh garlands of moonflowers and silverleaf, white banners trimmed in gold, and soft light flickering from lanterns enchanted to float just above eye level. The stone floor had been polished to a mirror finish, and everywhere Celine looked, she saw beauty—not the kind that spoke of wealth, but of care. Of intention.
This was no longer just the seat of the Alpha.
This was home.
And tonight, it was hers too.
In the bridal chamber, the air was thick with perfume and excitement. The mirrors had been framed with white blossoms, and servants moved silently in and out, adjusting, arranging, perfecting.
Celine stood still in front of the mirror, fully dressed now—her gown a sweeping masterpiece of midnight blue and silver embroidery, cut to flatter her frame with the elegance of a queen but the strength of a warrior. The bodice shimmered with tiny threads of starlight. The train flowed behind her like the night sky. Around her throat, she wore a silver pendant gifted by the pack—etched with the crest of the White Wolf.
Her veil, sheer and soft as mist, had been draped across her shoulders, waiting.
Her hair was braided back from her face in soft loops, woven with silver pins and tiny pearl accents. Her skin glowed, not just from the moonlight, but from within.
She looked in the mirror and hardly recognized the girl staring back at her.
Not the servant.
Not the girl begging to be seen.
Not the one who once stood trembling in Midnight Crest.
She looked regal.
She looked poised.
She looked like a Luna.
A soft knock came at the door, and Lucy poked her head in, eyes already wide. “Celine… you look like a goddess.”
Celine turned to her, smiling warmly. “I was hoping you’d help me with the veil.”
Lucy gasped. “You want me to carry it?”
“You’ve been with me through everything,” Celine said. “You’re family. I can’t imagine anyone else walking behind me.”
Lucy sniffled. “Stop. You’re going to make me cry.”
Celine reached out and squeezed her hand. “Let’s go before I cry too.”
As they stepped out together, the music began—soft and low, building in waves like a rising tide.
Celine took one last breath and stepped toward the ceremony, veil trailing behind her, her heart light.
She was no longer walking toward a title.
She was walking toward her future.