Nyx
The day dawns silver and sharp, the kind of cold that bites through silk and bone alike. Even the air feels expectant. Electric. As I stand before the ceremonial square that has been rebuilt more times than I can count.
Once it was a place for executions. Then coronations. Today, it’s a stage. The Council calls it a “Trial of Blood.” I call it theater. I have to go through the trials this time without losing control, or they are going to force me into a bond with Orion.
Cameras hover like vultures above the platform. Black drones marked with the insignias of every major pack. Their lenses blink red as they record every movement, every breath. Live streams run on giant screens at the edges of the square, where hundreds of wolves watch from behind security barriers.
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