The morning assembly is supposed to restore morale.
Two hundred wolves gathered in the main hall, Lysander addressing them with the steady confidence of an Alpha stepping into a role his brother can't fill. Patrol reassignments, updated protocols, the news that last night's ambush was intercepted. Controlled applause, cautious relief.
Luna stands beside me, her hand in mine. I feel the tremor before I see it—her fingers tightening, breathing going shallow, eyes widening as the hall fills with emotional energy she can no longer filter.
I know what's coming.
I've watched it build for days—the empathic floodgates straining, each assembly harder than the last. Before she can spiral, I squeeze her hand twice. Our signal. She squeezes back, and I guide her quietly toward the side entrance while Lysander holds the room's attention.
The small reading room has become our refuge. Thick walls, no windows, the most emotionally insulated space in the compound. I settle Luna on the couch with the weighted blanket and lock the door, then kneel beside her.
"How bad is it today?"
"Worse," her voice is thin, exhausted. "I could feel every single person in that hall. The woman in the third row—her grief is like black water. The children near the door are terrified. And… when people noticed me leaving, their worry made it louder."
"But you didn't collapse. That's progress, my dear."
"It feels like running away."
"Strategic withdrawal isn't running. Your Uncle Lysander would call it tactical repositioning." I brush the hair from her face. "Now, let's work a little. Find your anchor."
She closes her eyes. Seconds pass before her breathing starts to slow.
"I feel scared. That's mine."
"Good. Hold it. Everything else is weather."
"Elara's outside the door again, worried and guilty."
"Hers or yours?"
"Hers," a shudder passes through her. "There's a wolf on patrol—homesick and tired. Someone in the kitchen is angry about rationing. A child two floors up is having a nightmare."
"Name them and let them go."
"Leaves on a river," she whispers, and begins the grinding work of filtering. The sharper ones snag. Luna names those twice, three times, before they loosen and drift downstream.
I watch my daughter fight for her own mind and make a decision that's been forming since the first time she collapsed in my arms.
When Luna finally rests—limp against the cushions, dark circles carved deep, lips still moving in half-sleep as she filters—I return to the main hall. Lysander has finished the briefing, but wolves linger in clusters, casting glances toward the corridor where I disappeared recently.
I step onto the platform. The hall quiets.
"You saw what happened with my daughter. Some of you have seen it before—the episodes, the screaming, the collapse. I want you to understand what's actually occurring, because she isn't the only one of your Alpha’s heirs whose world has changed."
Two hundred faces watch me. I grip the podium and speak plainly.
"The attack on their father triggered simultaneous awakenings in all three. Phoenix has developed physical strength. She's learning to control it, but the process is difficult—she's terrified of hurting the people she loves."
Murmurs ripple through the hall. I press forward.
"Orion has developed a form of tactical foresight—the ability to sense probable outcomes before they unfold. He predicted last night's ambush before our scouts detected it."
The murmurs deepen. Wolves exchange glances—unease, wonder, fear.
"And Luna is an empath whose abilities have expanded beyond anything she can contain. She doesn't just read emotions anymore. She experiences them. Every wolf in this hall, every feeling you carry—grief, rage, fear, hope—pours through her without a filter. She's learning to build shields, but until they hold, your emotions are her burden."
Silence. Heavy, uncomfortable silence from wolves who hadn't considered that their fear might be a weapon aimed at a child.
"I'm telling you this for two reasons. First, you deserve honesty from your Luna about what's happening inside the Alpha family. And second, I need your help."
"What kind of?" Garrett asks from the third row.
"Awareness. When you're near my children, your emotional state matters. I'm not asking you to stop feeling, but if you can temper the intensity, practice the shielding techniques Elara has been teaching, be conscious of what you're projecting when you're in their presence."
"You're asking us to babysit our own emotions," someone says from the back. Not hostile—genuinely uncertain.
"Just treat my children's awakening the way you'd treat any pack member's injury—with care and accommodation while they heal."
"These gifts," Marcus speaks carefully, "they could be assets in a war. Those abilities—"
"My children are not weapons," the words come out with more force than I intend, and I see wolves flinch.
I soften my voice.
"They're kids, and their bodies are doing things that terrify them. Before anyone considers tactical applications, we help them survive the awakening itself. That's the priority."
"The Luna's right," Kieran's voice carries from the back of the hall. Wolves turn. My husband stands with one hand on the wall for support, having walked here from the medical wing against every instruction Elara gave him. "Our children didn't ask for this. They need their pack—not as commanders issuing orders, but as family providing shelter. That's what packs are for."
The hall absorbs his words. Something shifts in the collective posture—the particular straightening that happens when wolves remember what they're supposed to be protecting and why.
"We'll learn," Garrett says. "Tell us what they need, and we will help."
I nod, not trusting my voice. In the reading room down the hall, Luna is sleeping with her lips still moving—naming emotions, releasing them, the constant labor of a child learning to breathe underwater while the ocean rises around her.
I wonder whether this gift will break her before she learns to wield it. She needs training, all my cubs need it. As the White Luna of this pack and their mother, I should do everything I can to help them go through the awakening.
The training will start tomorrow.