Caelan POV:
The courtyard settles the way a held breath does before release.
I stand at its centre with Kieran and Rhydan flanking me, posture relaxed, expression composed, the mantle of Alpha resting where it always has. I do not call for quiet, I do not need to, the pack senses the shift the way wolves always do.
Vaelor stands tall within me, vast and steady. “She comes,” he says, and then she does.
Elara steps into the courtyard framed by stone and afternoon light, her arm linked with one of the pack women who helped ready her. The sun catches the gold threaded through her dress and warms it instead of brightening it, like fire seen at a distance rather than flame meant to dazzle.
Everything narrows. The sound softens at the edges, the gathered wolves become presence rather than di
