The palace doors opened with a groan of ancient iron. Celine stepped through them, her hand held tightly in Leon’s, the velvet of her formal gown brushing the cold marble beneath her boots. The hall was vast—domed ceilings etched in gold, banners bearing the royal crest hanging in still, heavy silence. Every step echoed.
They were led by guards down a corridor flanked with polished stone wolves, each one bearing the names of past Alphas, past Queens, past legends.
And now, Celine was being summoned to stand among them.
The throne room wasn’t loud. It was worse. It was silent.
Courtiers lined the balconies and stairs in gleaming silks, faces painted with diplomacy, curiosity, suspicion. At the center of it all, seated on a raised obsidian throne, was the Lycan King.
His gaze found Celine immediately. She didn’t flinch. Leon didn’t let go of her hand, even when they stopped before the throne.
“Your Majesty, you summoned us,” Celine said, voice calm.
The King’s smile was almost pleasant. “The council requested a demonstration.”
“A demonstration,” Leon repeated, flat.
“The prophecy,” said a voice to the left—one of the royal ministers. “You’ve been named the White Wolf. But no royal eyes have seen the shift.”
“There are doubts,” another added coolly.
Leon stepped forward, voice like steel. “She doesn’t shift for amusement.”
But Celine touched his arm. “It’s fine,” she said quietly. “Let them see.”
She stepped into the center of the marble floor, her back straight, her breath steady. For a heartbeat, there was only silence.
Then—she shifted.
It wasn’t slow.
It wasn’t gentle.
It was a surge, a blinding wash of light that cracked through the room like lightning without thunder. Her bones twisted, skin flickered—and in a burst of radiant silver-white, her wolf landed softly on the marble, standing tall, her fur like fresh snow under moonlight.
Except it wasn’t just white. It glowed.
Her coat shimmered, pulsing faintly with energy. Her eyes were silver fire, glowing from within like they held starlight. And every movement radiated power earning a ripple of gasps from everyone in the chamber.
One of the ministers stepped back instinctively. Another dropped their eyes in stunned reverence. No one could deny it now. This wasn’t just a rare shift. This was the wolf of legend. The wolf the prophecy warned—and promised.
“She is the one,” someone whispered.