The silence after the Circle released me felt heavier than the judgment itself.
Wolves didn't know what to do with uncertainty. I could feel it in the way they shifted, in how no one quite met my eyes. Fear had been replaced by something more dangerous—calculation.
I walked back into the square alone.
No guards touched me now. None dared.
Astraea remained close, her presence firm but quiet, like a hand at my back.
They will demand control, she warned. They always do when power refuses to kneel.
The Alpha didn't sit again. He stood at the center platform, gaze sweeping over the pack until the murmurs died.
"The Circle has spoken," he said. "But judgment is not absolution."
Lyris stiffened visibly.
My shoulders tensed.
"The power awakened within her is unstable," the Alpha continued. "Not because of malice, but because it has been suppressed too long."
An elder stepped forward. "Then it must be contained."
"No," the Alpha said sharply. "It must be trained."
The word rippled through the square.
Training.
Not punishment.
Not exile.
Astraea stirred approvingly.
This is the correct path, she said. Power denied festers. Power guided stabilizes.
Lyris recovered quickly. "Training her legitimizes the bond," she argued. "It places her at the center of pack influence."
The Alpha's gaze cut to her. "The Circle already did that."
That silenced her.
He turned to me. "You will undergo binding discipline."
My chest tightened. "With who?"
The pause was deliberate.
"With those tied to the bond."
The ground might as well have dropped out beneath me.
A sharp surge rippled through the threads connecting us—three reactions at once. Shock. Tension. Something dangerously close to relief.
"No," I said immediately. "That's not control. That's confinement."
"You misunderstand," the Alpha replied. "This is not proximity for comfort. It is enforced accountability."
I clenched my fists. "You're asking me to trust the very people who helped break me."
"I am asking you," he said calmly, "to survive what fate has already bound."
The pack watched intently now, breath held.
Astraea pressed closer, grounding my shaking nerves.
Trust is not required, she said. Awareness is.
"And if I refuse?" I asked quietly.
The Alpha didn't hesitate. "Then others will decide for you."
The threat wasn't cruel.
It was honest.
I exhaled slowly. "What does this training involve?"
"Control of projection. Emotional regulation. Bond synchronization," he said. "You will learn to anchor without suppressing."
"And them?"
"They will learn restraint," the Alpha replied coldly. "Or they will be removed from succession."
That sent a visible shock through the crowd.
Lyris's lips parted in disbelief.
"You can't—"
"I can," the Alpha interrupted. "And I will."
A murmur rose—approval mixed with outrage.
I felt the bond tighten—not painfully this time, but intently. Three presences aligned in reluctant focus.
This wasn't about desire.
This was about consequence.
"When does it start?" I asked.
"Tonight," the Alpha said.
Astraea hummed softly. Good. Delay breeds resistance.
The Alpha dismissed the gathering with a sharp gesture. Wolves dispersed slowly, conversations hushed but heated. Lyris remained where she stood, staring at the ground as if it had betrayed her.
As I turned away, her voice cut through the air.
"You think this makes you strong?"
I stopped.
"This makes you dangerous," she continued, stepping closer. "Power doesn't erase history."
I faced her fully. "Neither does fear dressed as concern."
Her eyes flashed. "You won't last."
"Maybe," I said calmly. "But neither will lies."
She recoiled as if struck.
I walked on.
The training grounds were empty when night fell, moonlight washing the sand in silver. Torches flickered along the perimeter, their flames restless in the cool air.
They were already there.
All three.
Separated by distance. United by tension.
None of them spoke at first.
I stopped at the center of the grounds, heart pounding—not with longing, but with readiness sharpened by years of endurance.
"This isn't forgiveness," I said before anyone else could speak.
One of them nodded stiffly. "We know."
"This isn't closeness," I added. "It's survival."
Another exhaled slowly. "Understood."
The third said nothing—only lowered his head briefly in acknowledgment.
Astraea stepped fully forward inside me, steady and unyielding.
Begin with grounding, she instructed. Let them feel the boundary before the bond.
I planted my feet in the sand.
"Whatever happens here," I said, voice steady despite the storm beneath my ribs, "you do not touch me unless I say so."
Three voices answered at once.
"We won't."
The bond responded—not warm, not soft—but aligned.
For the first time, it didn't pull.
It waited.
And as the moon climbed higher, illuminating the space between us, I understood something crucial—
Power wasn't about dominance.
It was about standing your ground and refusing to disappear again.