Chapter 280
Elara’s POV
“Stand straighter. They will watch how you breathe.”
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Vessa tugged my sleeve into place. Her hand was rough, her eyes sharp. Behind her, Mira leaned her shield against the stone rail and smirked. “She could breathe sideways and they would still come.”
The hall buzzed. Not the council chamber, not the war yard–this was Thornhaven Square, stripped clean and built back. Lanterns hung from ropes across the beams, pale cloth banners painted with twin moons swayed in the draft. No throne, no high chair. A wide circle. Seats at equal height.
Eden stood by the arch with a list in hand, lips moving as he counted heads. “Fenreach, three. Obsidian Howl, two. Ridge, four. Hollow, one, but tall enough to count for three.”
“Stop muttering,” Jory said, elbowing him. “They are not chickens.”
“They are worse,” Eden muttered.
I drew a breath. “Let them in.”
The doors swung. Feet scuffed stone. Women and girls stepped into the circle first. Some wore pack colors. Some wore patched cloth with no crest. One old woman limped, gray braid long, back straight as a spear. An omega boy led her by the hand. Two exiles followed, heads bare, ropes gone.
Whispers rose at their backs. Men muttered, some with scorn, some with awe. They kept walking until the circle was full.
Cael’s voice carried from the side. “Witness this.”
Elder Briar opened the ledger. His pen quivered. He had never written this scene before.
I stepped forward. No crown. No sash. Just the locket at my throat and the callus on my palm. “You came from packs that did not want you. You came from homes that told you to hush. Today, you do not hush.”
A girl with cropped hair whispered to the one beside her. The words carried anyway. “What if we fail.”
I heard it and answered. “Then you fail standing. And someone else rises where you fell. That is how walls are built–stone on stone, not silence on silence.”
Mira’s shield thudded once, hard, like a drum. The sound stilled the mutters.
I lifted my chin. “This circle is the Crescent Court. It will not judge bloodline. It will not judge birth. It will judge by work and wisdom. You will lead drills. You will teach children. You will hold a chair in councils where
you were once barred at the door.”
Eden spoke up, reading from the list. “Twenty–one packs swore witness. Fifteen pledged seats. Seven sent women who never held rank. Four sent none but sent blessings. That is enough to start.”
9:44 Fri, Sep 26
Chapter 280
The old woman with the braid tapped her stick on stone. “What if they laugh.”
“Let them,” I said. “Laughter wastes breath. Breath runs out faster than law.”
She smiled, thin and sharp. “Good answer.”
Vessa stepped into the circle. “Names.”
The girl with cropped hair squared her shoulders. “Kaia, Fenreach pack”
The one beside her whispered, then spoke louder. “Serena, Ridge.”
One by one, names filled the air. Nora. Prisca. Leira. Zara. Even Fenna, wiping her hands on her apron before she said it. Each name was written. Each name made the hall warmer.
When they were done, I raised both hands. “Then by these witnesses and by these voices, the Crescent Court stands.”
The lanterns flickered as if the air agreed. Cael’s gaze found mine. He did not smile. He steadied. That was better.
A murmur rippled the crowd, not quite cheer, not quite disbelief. Then Jory whistled, sharp. Mira slammed her shield again. Vessa drew her blade and held it flat to her brow. The sound grew. Feet stomped. Hands struck palms.
The girl Kaia stared at me, eyes wide. “What do we do first.”
“Work,” I said.
Gasps, then laughter, then nods.
I turned to the men at the edges. “If you want power, you stand outside and beg for it. If you want change, you work with it. Choose now.”
A man from Ridge spat. “This is farce.”
The old woman with the braid struck her stick at his boots. “Farce feeds better than your empty barn.”
The hall roared with approval.
Cael lifted his hand. Silence fell. “The Court begins. Watch them. Measure them. But do not mistake them. They will stand longer than your sneers.”
I looked at the women, at the faces that still carried scars, at the hands that still shook but were raised anyway. “Two moons,” I said.
They answered. “One law.”
The flag outside cracked in the wind.
