Aysel's POV "Eat something first." Magnus's voice was low-half command, half concern, carrying that unmistakable edge of Alpha dominance that could bend even air to his will. His eyes glowed faintly under the torchlight, a wolf's gaze cutting through the haze of incense and smoke. Then, softer, "Do you like the fireworks?" The night sky above the Moonvale Citadel burned with color. Fire after fire, bursting into arcs of silver and crimson, like the howls of celestial wolves written in flame. I turned, startled, my fingers tightening around the goblet of mead. "The fireworks... you prepared them?" I'd thought they were part of the Moonvale Pack's celebration-another hollow display for the engagement that had replaced mine. Yet now, watching the reflection of the flames in his eyes, I realized how wrong I'd been. The fireworks were not for the Pack, not for the traitors who had replaced me. They were for me. Magnus raised a brow, that predatory calm curling at the corners of his lips. "Of course. Birthdays deserve tribute. What others give you, you shall have in full-and more." His words rolled like thunder. Then, as if obeying his command, the sky above us erupted again-this time not in random bursts, but in deliberate artistry. Among the showering lights bloomed ancient runes of the Lycan tongue, and in their center, framed by the blaze of crimson and gold, formed my name: "Happy Birthday, Aysel Vale." For a long moment, I couldn't move. Not since I was six-the year rain drowned my candles and my aunt was dead-had I seen fireworks for me. I used to hide behind the temple pillars, watching Celestine bask in their glow, ashamed of the envy curling in my chest. A sinner's daughter, unworthy of joy. But tonight, the heavens themselves burned for me. The light spilled across my face like a benediction, and for the first time in years, I felt something crack open inside-a tremor between grief and awe. I looked at him then, truly looked. "Thank you," I said softly. It wasn't the voice of the cast-out daughter, nor the broken mate. It was the voice of the wolf reborn. He smiled-wolfish, knowing. "Then my offering is worthy." Around us, the grand hall fell silent. It was as if the pack had been struck dumb. Conversations froze, music faltered. The courtiers of Moonvale, so used to ignoring me, now turned their faces upward in disbelief as my name burned across the heavens. Only now did they realize-the night's true celebration had never been the engagement of Celestine Ward to Damon Blackwood. It was my night. My rebirth. I could see it in their eyes: shock, envy, calculation. They knew this spectacle wasn't of Moonvale's making. The Alpha of Shadowbane had done what even Alpha Remus Vale, my father, had never thought to do. He had honored me. And in this world ruled by wolves and hierarchy, honor was power. The whispers began. Some murmured in awe, some in fear. Others tried to curry favor, their eyes glittering with the scent of opportunism. I could almost hear the words slithering through the hall: "She's under Alpha Sanchez's protection." "Did you see the way he looked at her?" "Even her enemies will think twice now." It wasn't only the fireworks that stunned them-it was how Magnus had touched me earlier. The way he'd knelt slightly, brushing my wrist as though I were something sacred, how his tone shifted only for me. That gesture, in a hall full of rivals, spoke louder than blood. It declared to every wolf present that I was not a stray-no longer the unwanted daughter of Moonvale, but the chosen female of the Shadowbane Alpha. And in a world where dominance was law, that meant no one dared lay a claw on me. I caught sight of Damon across the hall. His jaw was tight, his eyes shadowed. The great Alpha of the East, the one who had once promised me the moon, now stood small beneath the fireworks that bore my name. For a heartbeat, I saw regret flicker in him-a fleeting spark of the boy who'd sworn loyalty before turning away. Too late. The gods of the old wolves had already chosen sides. The hall stirred again. The elders of the Moonvale Pack exchanged uneasy glances. Even Alpha Remus's face had drained of color. They hadn't known. None of them had. Magnus had orchestrated this spectacle entirely on his own, a calculated display of power wrapped in tenderness. And though they would later claim they'd supported it all along, I could feel their unease ripple like cold wind. For centuries, the Shadowbane line had ruled the continent's darker frontiers-those who commanded not through council or bloodlines, but through fear, instinct, and victory. To have one of their kind appear in Moonvale, at my side, was no small thing. The realization settled among the crowd: this was no ordinary union. This was a realignment of power. "Did you like it?" Magnus's voice broke through my thoughts. His tone was gentler now, like the murmur of the sea before a storm. "Yes," I whispered. "It's beautiful." His fingers brushed the inside of my wrist-slow, deliberate. "Then eat, little wolf. Tonight you reclaim what they took." He guided me toward the banquet table, his hand firm against my back. The crowd parted instinctively, as if their instincts remembered something their minds refused to name. He selected slices of spiced bread, honeyfruit, and meat glazed in silver herbs. The moment I sat, he poured a goblet of bloodwine and placed it before me, watching until I took a bite. Dominance did not always roar-it could be quiet, protective, inexorable. When he looked at me again, his eyes glowed faintly gold. "No one will forget this night, Aysel Vale. Not your pack, not the East, not even the gods." And as the last of the fireworks spelled my name one final time across the starlit sky, I felt the truth of it. I was no longer the sinner's daughter of Moonvale. I was the wolf who had survived the fire-and claimed the stars.