Dawn broke over the sacred grove like a blessing.
The ancient oaks stood sentinel, their branches just beginning to show the first green buds of spring. Mist curled between the trunks, softening the world. A path of white stones led to a clearing where generations of wolves had pledged their lives to each other.
Today, something new will happen.
Seren stood at the edge of the grove. She wore a dress of pale silver; not white, not grey, but somewhere between, like the first light of morning. No crown. No jewels. Just the dress and the rings on her finger and the bond humming in her blood.
Lysa adjusted her veil for the third time. "You're shaking."
"I'm cold."
"You're nervous."
"I'm both."
Marina approached, her hands steady as she straightened Seren's collar. "You look beautiful. Your father would have cried."
"He never cried."
"He would have started." Marina kissed her forehead. "Go. They're waiting."
.
.
.
The clearing was small, intimate.
