Nyx
“The price of choice is always higher for women in power,” Selene whispers. There’s a special kind of silence in the Council Hall. The kind that comes before a storm. Not the loud, thunderous kind. The kind that hums beneath the skin, too still, too careful.
Cameras hover like vultures in the rafters. Elders line the long obsidian table, silver sigils gleaming on their robes, their eyes glinting with that same old mixture of reverence and resentment. They still refuse to dress like normal modern people.
Kaelen stands to my right. My equal, my partner, my anchor, though the Council still says “Alpha Nyx and her appointed co-lead.” Never our rule. Always mine to question. And today, they’re sharpening the knife in plain sight. Elder Soren, the oldest among them, clears his throat. His
