The silence that followed Aurelia's departure from the council chamber did not feel like peace.
It felt like recoil.
She could sense it in the way the pack grounds shifted as she passed through them—conversations breaking apart, movements hesitating, eyes following her longer than they should have. The world she had known all her life no longer quite knew where to place her.
That knowledge sat heavy in her chest.
No regret. Not fear.
Weight.
The fractured seal on her wrist pulsed faintly beneath her skin, neither tight nor loose, but alert—aware of the attention drawn to it. A reminder that whatever she had been before, she was no longer invisible.
Aurelia crossed the lower yard at an unhurried pace, refusing to let urgency dictate her steps. Wolves parted instinctively, some bowing their heads, others stiffening as if bracing for a blow that never came.
She gave none.
Power did not need to announce itself. It needed only to be undeniable.
