= Mikael =
The celebration began the moment the ceremony ended.
It was as if the entire pack had been holding its breath and finally released it all at once. Music surged through the clearing again—drums first, steady and grounding, then the sharp cry of flutes weaving through the night air. Laughter followed. Movement. The rigid formality that had gripped the ritual dissolved into something warmer, looser, alive.
Torches burned bright around the perimeter, their flames dancing in approval beneath the full moon.
And Amara stood at the center of it all.
Last night, she had been the one approaching them—measured, observant, choosing her moments carefully. She had walked into conversations like a strategist entering negotiations, chin lifted, eyes sharp. She had earned their attention.
