The iron pendulum of the great hall clock swung toward the center mark, its heavy gears grinding inside the cedar casing. A single, metallic chime vibrated through the wooden floorboards, cutting off the low, rumbling murmurs of the remaining elders.

On the central stone altar, the ancient runes carved into the black granite began to twitch, a pale, liquid silver light rising from the deep, dust-filled grooves. The sacred flame ignited without wood or oil, a column of cold silver fire that sent a sharp, metallic scent of ozone through the suffocating air.

Tanya Bennett smoothed the front of her red silk skirt, stepping toward the perimeter of the stone altar with a thick stack of parchment gripped tightly in her manicured fingers. Her father, the Chief Beta, followed her step for step, his broadsword clinking rhythmically against his thigh armor as he stood to witness his daughter's ascension.

Then the silver flame shifted, turning a violent, blinding gold that erupted from the center of the stage like a fracturing star.

The sudden light cut through the thick crowd of elite warriors, a physical beam of energy that tore straight past the high tables, ignoring Tanya entirely. It sliced through the smoky air of the hall, striking the dark kitchen corridor and enveloping Eva where she stood shivering by the flour bins.

The entire grand hall fell into a dead silence so heavy that the snapping of the birch logs sounded like pistol shots in the quiet.

Killian gripped the edges of the mahogany table, his knuckles cracking under the sudden pressure as his entire body jerked forward. His dark gold eyes widened, the pupils contracting into sharp black slits as the sheer shockwave of the bond ripped through his chest.

Thorin roared beneath his skin, a soundless force that radiated outward from the Alpha, slamming into the heavy stone pillars with physical weight.

Eva stumbled backward into the pantry, her palms slapping against the cedar logs as the golden light wrapped around her wrists like burning silver wire. Her chest burned with a sudden, crushing heat that matched the rhythmic pulse of the token in her apron pocket.

The window panes along the western wall vibrated violently, a sharp, shattering pop echoing through the rafters as three of the glass panels cracked from top to bottom under the pressure of the raw power.

No one moved; no one breathed as the golden light slowly began to settle, revealing the powerless, broken Omega standing in the shadows of the servant quarters.

"No," Tanya’s voice broke the silence, a high, desperate scream that rattled the empty wine goblets on the table. "This is a mistake! The bloodline belongs to the high houses, not to an outcast!"

She stepped back, her boot catching the edge of her long hem as her hands began to shake uncontrollably. The forged lineage papers she had been holding slipped from her grip, scattering across the wet, wine-stained wool rug like dead leaves.

Killian didn't look down at the fallen documents, his boots already taking a heavy, unhurried step down from the high tier, his gaze never leaving Eva’s pale face.

"Wait, Alpha," the Chief Beta stepped forward, his hand dropping to his hilt, his face tightening into a hard mask of panic. "The ritual is old. The fire can be tricked by rogue magic."

Killian didn't stop, his shoulder shifting past the Beta's extended arm with enough force to make the older warrior stumble back against the altar stone. His eyes remained fixed on the narrow kitchen entrance, tracking the way Eva’s chest rose and fell in ragged gasps.

Eva backed away further into the darkness of the pantry, her boots sliding through a puddle of spilled water from the washing tubs. Her hands tore at the golden light still swirling around her forearms, but the magic only sank deeper into her skin, leaving a warm, hum of power beneath her veins.

"Stay back," Eva whispered, her voice cracking as the shadow of his large frame blocked out the light from the hall.

Killian reached the threshold of the kitchen corridor, his boots crunching on the small shards of broken wine glasses left over from the earlier banquet. He stopped exactly three feet from her, his nostrils flaring as he took in the scent of pine needles, winter frost, and something deep and hidden that belonged entirely to his wolf.

The warriors in the front row crowded around the doorway, their whispers rising into a low hum that filled the narrow space.

"It's the servant girl," someone called out from the back. "The one Tanya kicked out into the storm."

Tanya pushed through the line of elders, her hair loosening from its silk ribbon as she pointed a trembling finger at Eva. "She did something to the altar. My father’s scholars verified my bloodline. She’s an Omega—she doesn't even have a wolf!"

Killian ignored the screams, his hands lifting slowly to unbuckle the leather straps of his wrist guards, letting the heavy armor drop to the stone floor with a dull thud.

"What is your name?" Killian asked, his voice low and raspy, the dominant vibration causing the low-ranking wolves near the door to lower their heads.

Eva kept her back pinned to the flour bin, her fingers digging into the cedar wood until her knuckles turned white. "Eva."

Killian took another step, his shadow completely swallowing her small frame as he leaned down, his gold eyes searching her face with an intensity that felt like a physical touch. He reached out, his bare fingers stopping just an inch away from the small, fresh scar on her hand where the token had cut her skin.

The skin was smooth, the wound already gone, leaving only a faint silver line that glowed under the remnant of the altar's light.

"You're no Omega," Killian murmured, his hand closing gently around her wrist, the touch sending a jolt of golden fire straight up her arm that made them both draw a sharp breath.