Caelan POV:
The celebration does not fracture into chaos, it gathers.
Music builds through the courtyard in layered rhythm, drums beat steady and commanding beneath everything else, strings weaving over them, voices rising in warmth. Firelight throws gold across stone and skin alike, and the pack moves with the easy certainty of wolves who know something fundamental has shifted in their favour.
I stand with Elara at my side and feel it fully now, not just the pack’s strength, but my own presence deepened, sharpened. The bond did not dilute anything in me, it amplified it.
Vaelor stands vast and satisfied within my chest. “She moves,” he says, and Elara does.
Elara slips from my arm without fully leaving me, turning toward the rhythm with a smile that is unguarded and bright. She does
