Weeks bled into one another, transforming the chaotic, agonizing aftermath of the Trickster King's death into a steady, protective rhythm.
The pack had closed ranks around their Matriarch, building an impenetrable fortress of warmth, laughter, and unyielding devotion. True to her bold declaration to the Abyssal Queen, Roxy had thrown herself entirely into healing her soul and securing her family's unscripted reality.
Today, the sprawling Iron-Wood Manor was absolutely vibrating with a joyous, electric anticipation.
It was the day of Little Fedor's presentation ceremony.
The grand hall had been spectacularly transformed. Towering banners bearing the crests of the Dragon, the Wolf, the Tiger, and the Sea hung proudly from the vaulted ceiling.
The massive stone hearths roared with heavily scented pine logs, and the long feasting tables groaned beneath the weight of roasted winter-boars, honey-glazed root vegetables, and towering platters of sweet pastries.
