CHAPTER 165: THE COUNCIL

The fire crackled in the center of the tent. Its embers glowed gold and violet — divine and wolf magic interlacing in perfect contradiction, just like them.

The war council had ended hours ago. Plans were laid. Armies mobilized. But none of that mattered now. Not in this tent. Not in this silence. Not in this final calm before dawn broke with blood.

Athena stood at the far end of the furs, her back to them, her breath shallow.

Her hands trembled. Not from fear.

From restraint.

Lucas was the first to move.

He crossed the space between them in a few strides, wrapping his arms around her from behind, his cheek pressing gently to hers. His body was warm. Familiar. Grounded.

"You don’t have to be strong right now," he whispered. "Not with us."

She leaned into him, eyes closing, her heart thudding.

"I don’t know what tomorrow brings," she murmured. "But I know what I want tonight."

Cassius’s voice came from the entrance, low and raw. "Then take it."

Athena turned slowly.

Cassius stepped forward, his amber eyes lit with something deeper than hunger — reverence and possession burning through every inch of him.

They closed in on her together.

No tension. No jealousy. Just shared purpose. Shared want. Shared need.

Lucas kissed her first — soft and slow, like worship. One hand tangled in her silver-black hair, the other sliding down her spine, anchoring her to this moment, to him.

Cassius joined, his hand brushing her cheek, his lips grazing her neck, trailing lower. His mouth was fire against her pulse. Her knees buckled.

Together, they undressed her — not with haste, but with devotion. Each layer peeled back like sacred ritual. Every inch of her kissed, caressed, claimed.

Their hands found each other across her back. She stood between them like a goddess between stars — burning, pulled, powerful.

Lucas lowered her to the furs. "Let us remind you," he said, voice hoarse, "of who you are to us."

Cassius’s mouth followed the line of her thigh, his growl vibrating into her skin. "Ours."

Their bond shimmered — not just magical, but carnal. Sacred. Raw.

When Lucas kissed her again, it was different. Desperate. Final. Like a man who needed her soul on his tongue. Cassius wasn’t gentler — he never was — but he was honest. Brutal in how much he loved her.

Fangs grazed her shoulder.

Claws dug gently into her hips.

She arched beneath them, cried out, lost and found all at once. Their magic poured into her — two wolves, one fire, all of it crashing through her in waves that didn’t end.

They moved with instinct, with unity, with worship.

Three bodies. One rhythm.

A goddess claimed.

A bond sealed.

And when it ended — when the tent fell back into soft, breathless silence — she lay tangled between them, her hands in their hair, their scent covering her like armor.

"I love you both," she whispered, lips against Lucas’s chest, fingers clasped in Cassius’s hand.

Cassius kissed her shoulder. "And we are yours. In this life. And the next."

Lucas pressed his forehead to hers. "Let the world come."

Because tonight, they had already won.

The Great Hall smelled of smoke and iron.

Torches burned low in their sconces. The floor was rough-cut stone. The walls were ancient, built before most of the Alphas present had even been born. Now they stood in tense silence—powerful men and women, the fiercest leaders of the werewolf world—watching Athena as if trying to decide whether to follow her...

...or fear her.

At the head of the long war table, Athena stood draped in midnight armor, her silver-and-shadow hair braided back with runes of protection. Lucas stood to her right, calm but dangerous. Cassius at her left, arms folded, radiating the kind of menace that silenced fools before they opened their mouths.

"I called this council to unite us," Athena said, voice ringing through the room like tempered steel. "Because what we face now is not just a cult. It’s not just rebellion. It’s a force older than your bloodlines, older than the moon’s first whisper. A power that wakes beneath our world, and it doesn’t care which of you rules what territory."

Alpha Branor of the Northern Range sneered, arms crossed. "And why should we believe you speak for the gods?"

Cassius growled. Lucas took a step forward, but Athena lifted a hand, calm.

"Because I am the gods now," she said, quietly. "I carry the fire of the Moon. I fought Caelum. I closed the Rift. And I survived the Tomb of the First Fang when others fled from it in terror."

A murmur rippled through the room.

"You expect us to fall into line behind a single Luna," Alpha Moren of the Eastern Vales said. "Even one touched by divinity?"

"No," Athena said. "I expect you to live. And to make sure your packs do too."

An Alpha from the south stood abruptly—Alpha Rhiannon. Her wolf was old blood, respected. "We’ve seen the signs. The sky bleeding. The temples cracking. Your word isn’t prophecy, Moonbearer. But it is truth."

More murmurs. A few nods. The balance tilted.

But not enough.

Then the door burst open.

A young scout, bloodied and breathless, stumbled into the hall. "My Alphas—" he gasped, "it’s coming. The Cult’s army—they’re not hiding anymore. They’re marching with constructs and shadowbound wolves—infected. A tide of them. Thousands."

The silence after was suffocating.

"Where?" Cassius demanded.

"Three days out. Not just one front. They’re splintering—pressing into all our territories. They’re trying to scatter us."

Athena’s eyes darkened. "They want to divide us. To weaken the packs before we can join."

Lucas spoke, voice low and commanding. "Then we give them nothing. No weakness. No fractures."

But Alpha Branor still hesitated. "And if we follow you, what promise do we have that you won’t burn us next?"

Athena stepped forward, meeting his gaze directly. "Because I need you. Every wolf, every howl, every heart. Not beneath me. With me."

She reached up—slowly—untied the clasp of her armor and pulled her shirt from her collar.

A collective gasp echoed.

Across her chest and up her throat, glowing runes pulsed—not wounds, but ancient signs. A binding mark of prophecy, of sacrifice. Of power earned, not gifted.

"She bears the Mark of the Last Bond," Rhiannon whispered. "It’s real. The stories were real."

Athena’s voice was quiet, but every word struck like lightning.

"I’m not asking you to kneel. I’m asking you to fight. Stand with me. Stand with each other. Or watch the world your ancestors bled for turn to ash beneath your feet."

For a moment, there was stillness.

Then Alpha Moren stood.

"Then we howl," he said. "For the realm. For the Luna. For all of us."

Rhiannon followed. "The South stands."

One by one, they stood.

Some slower than others. But all of them, eventually.

Even Branor, after Cassius met his stare and made sure he understood what refusal would cost.

Athena nodded. "Good."

She turned toward the map etched in silver across the center table.

"We move before they expect us to. Strike hard. Strike united. Lucas—take the southern flank. Cassius—the east. I’ll lead the charge from the front."

She looked up.

Eyes blazing.

"This is our last night as fractured packs. When the sun rises, we howl as one."

The wind shifted over the valley like a warning.

From the cliffside encampment, thousands of wolves waited beneath the moon—silent, still, a sea of fur and steel and breath held tight. Flags of each territory flapped along the outer ridges of the war tents. Old enemies had built fires beside one another. Rivals now stood shoulder to shoulder.

The packs had united.

But unity did not mean calm.

Not tonight.

Athena stood at the highest rise overlooking the clearing, her silhouette outlined in the moonlight. Her armor had been stripped down to ritual leathers, her divine markings glowing faintly with each heartbeat. Her wings were hidden, her power quiet.

Tonight, she wasn’t leading.

She was preparing.

Behind her, Lucas approached silently. He didn’t speak—he didn’t need to. His warmth pressed into her back, and when his arms wrapped around her waist, she leaned into him without hesitation.

"Hearts are beating fast," he said softly. "Even the Elders are afraid."

"They should be," Athena replied, gaze never leaving the distant horizon. "Fear keeps them alive. But it can’t be the only thing guiding them."

Cassius emerged from below, his presence unmistakable even among hundreds. His eyes found hers immediately.

"They’re ready for the ritual," he said. "They’ve gathered on the eastern rise."

Athena turned. "Let’s not keep the moon waiting."