The bells did not stop ringing until dawn.
By then, the fortress had fully awakened—guards lining the corridors, wolves murmuring in low, urgent tones, fear and speculation rippling like wildfire through stone halls. The death of a traitor inside the fortress could not be contained.
Nor could I.
I stood beside Ronan in the council chamber as the heavy doors sealed shut behind us. The circular room pulsed faintly with ancient magic, runes glowing softly beneath our feet. Twelve seats formed the council ring—elders, generals, and pack leaders from allied territories.
Every one of them stared at me.
Some with curiosity.
Some with fear.
And some with open resentment.
"She should not be here," Elder Kael snapped, rising from his seat. "This meeting concerns the safety of the realm."
"It concerns her existence," Ronan replied coldly. "Which makes her presence necessary."
Murmurs erupted instantly.
I kept my spine straight, chin lifted, even as my heart thundered in my chest. The bond hummed, steady and reassuring, as if Ronan's certainty flowed through it into me.
Lyra stood near the edge of the chamber, arms crossed, eyes sharp. She gave me a single nod.
Support.
Barely earned. But real.
Ronan stepped forward. "A traitor was discovered inside the fortress last night. He disabled part of the eastern barrier before the Purge attack."
Gasps filled the chamber.
"That alone proves my point," another elder said. "Your judgment has been compromised."
Ronan's eyes burned. "My judgment prevented an assassination."
The room stilled.
"Assassination?" Kael repeated sharply.
"Yes," Ronan said. "Of her."
Every gaze snapped back to me.
"She is the target," Ronan continued. "Not just because of who she is—but because of what she carries."
The air shifted.
I felt it before he said the words.
"The triplets," Ronan declared. "My heirs."
The council erupted.
Shouts overlapped. Chairs scraped violently against stone. Fear, outrage, disbelief—every emotion slammed into me at once.
"She bred with the Lycan King?"
"Impossible—she's a werewolf!"
"This violates ancient law!"
"Enough!" Ronan roared.
The runes flared blindingly bright as his power slammed into the chamber, silencing every voice instantly. The pressure forced even the elders back into their seats.
"She is my mate," he said, voice deadly calm. "Chosen by the bond, confirmed by fate. And she rejected me once—yet still, destiny claimed its due."
I inhaled slowly.
This was it.
No more hiding.
Elder Kael leaned forward, eyes glittering dangerously. "If what you say is true… then the prophecy is awake."
The word echoed like a curse.
"What prophecy?" I demanded, my voice cutting through the silence.
Several elders exchanged grim looks.
Ronan turned to me, hesitation flickering briefly before resolve hardened his gaze. "The Triplicate Crown."
My blood ran cold.
Kael spoke instead. "An ancient prophecy foretelling the fall of false rulers and the rise of three sovereign powers—born of Lycan blood and wolf strength. Balanced. United. Uncontrollable."
A knot formed in my chest.
"They said it would never happen," another elder muttered. "That the bloodlines were too divided."
"They were wrong," Lyra said sharply.
I felt the triplets stir—calm, aware.
"They're not weapons," I said quietly, fury threading my voice. "They're children."
"And that," Kael said grimly, "is exactly why they terrify us."
Ronan stepped closer to me, his presence a shield. "Any hand raised against them will be treated as treason."
"You can't protect them forever," Kael shot back. "The Purge grows stronger by the hour."
"Then we end it," I said.
The room went silent again.
Every eye turned to me.
I took a step forward, ignoring the tremor in my legs. "You fear what you don't understand. I did too. But I'm done running."
The bond flared—strong, undeniable.
"I won't be hidden. I won't be silenced. And I won't let my children be hunted because you're afraid of change."
Kael studied me carefully. "You're asking us to bet the realm on you."
"No," I replied steadily. "I'm telling you that the realm already has."
A beat passed.
Then another.
Finally, Kael exhaled slowly. "Then tradition demands acknowledgment."
My breath caught.
Ronan stiffened. "You mean—"
"A formal declaration," Kael said. "Of protection. Of claim."
The word sent heat racing through the bond.
Ronan turned to me. "This binds you to the throne," he warned quietly. "Publicly. Permanently."
I met his gaze without flinching. "I'm already bound."
He searched my face one last time.
Then turned to the council.
"I claim her," Ronan said, voice ringing through the chamber. "By bond, by blood, and by law. Any who oppose this claim stand against me."
The runes erupted in brilliant gold and silver light.
Power surged through me—warm, grounding, fierce.
The triplets responded instantly.
Three pulses echoed through the chamber.
The elders recoiled.
Kael's face went pale.
"The prophecy," he whispered. "It's already moving."
When the light finally faded, the council chamber felt… different.
Changed.
Ronan took my hand openly now, his grip firm and steady. "This fortress will no longer hide you," he said. "It will stand for you."
Outside, thunder rolled across the mountains.
War was coming.
But for the first time, I wasn't afraid of what I'd lose.
Only of what I might become.
And deep inside me, three heartbeats echoed back—strong, fearless, ready.