After lunch, Caleb took me to his study to prepare for the council meeting. "There are protocols to observe," he explained, showing me a leather-bound book of werewolf customs and traditions. "Forms of address, proper responses to formal recognition, that sort of thing."

I skimmed the indicated pages, raising an eyebrow at the archaic language and elaborate ceremonies described. "This feels like something out of a medieval court."


"Some of these traditions date back nearly that far," he confirmed. "Werewolves are long-lived and slow to change their ways. The formal aspects of pack governance have remained largely unchanged for centuries."

"And I thought academic committee meetings were stuffy," I muttered, earning a rare chuckle from Caleb.

As the afternoon progressed, I found myself growing increasingly anxious about the upcoming council meeting. These were powerful werewolves who had known my mother, who had opinions about her research and choices, who might view me as either an asset or a threat depending on their political alignments.


Caleb sensed my unease, his hand covering mine where it rested on the desk. "You'll be fine," he assured me. "Just remember—you are Eleanor Gray's daughter, a werewolf in your own right now, not merely a human to be managed or manipulated. You have power of your own, both through your bloodline and through the connections you're forming."

His confidence bolstered mine. "Will you be there? During the council meeting?"


"Every step of the way," he promised. "As will Sophia, Lucas, and Margaret. You have allies, Eve."

The council chamber was the same circular stone room where I'd first learned the truth about werewolves, though it looked different now that I viewed it with enhanced senses. The torches' flames cast dancing shadows that my wolf eyes could track individually. The scents of the ancient stone, old leather, and the distinct markers of different werewolves created a complex olfactory map of the space.

Council members filed in gradually—representatives from the major regional packs, including Richard Silverton and his son James, Margaret Thornton representing her family's interests, and several others I recognized from the Silverton dinner. Marcus entered last, his cold eyes assessing me with new calculation now that my transformation was complete.

"The council recognizes Evelyn Mitchell, daughter of Eleanor Gray, newly come into her heritage," Richard Silverton announced formally once everyone was seated. "Step forward, young one."

I did as instructed, moving to the center of the circular table where all could see me clearly. Caleb stood slightly behind me, a reassuring presence at my back.

"The Gray bloodline returns to our community after many years' absence," Richard continued. "A significant event that merits formal acknowledgment and protection under the Ancient Accords."

Marcus leaned forward, his expression carefully neutral. "Before such protection is granted, the council should be informed of any... special traits the applicant may possess. For the safety of all packs."

The request seemed reasonable on the surface, but I sensed the trap beneath. Revealing the full extent of my abilities too soon, before I fully understood or controlled them, could make me a target.

Caleb stepped forward slightly. "My uncle's concern is valid but premature," he said smoothly. "Eve has only just completed her first transformation. Any bloodline traits will require time to manifest fully and be properly documented."

"And yet," Marcus countered, "rumors already circulate about unusual abilities. The council deserves transparency, nephew."

I could feel the tension building in the room, the political maneuvering happening beneath the formal language. Before Caleb could respond, I made a decision.

"I can sense pack bonds," I stated clearly, my voice stronger than I expected. "Between individuals and across traditional pack boundaries."

A murmur ran through the assembled council members. Marcus's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Like my mother before me," I continued, "I perceive connections that exist despite political divisions. What I will do with this ability remains to be seen—I'm still learning to control it, to understand its implications."

"A rare gift," Richard Silverton observed, though whether he considered it a blessing or threat wasn't clear from his tone.

"A potentially disruptive one," Marcus added. "The separate nature of packs has maintained peace and order for centuries. Blurring those lines could lead to chaos."

"Or to greater unity and strength," Margaret countered. "The old texts speak of a time when all werewolves shared a Great Bond, before the divisions that now separate us."

"Ancient history and myths," Marcus dismissed. "We live in the present reality, where territory and bloodline determine pack structure. Anything that threatens that structure threatens our very way of life."

I could feel the council dividing, some members nodding in agreement with Marcus, others looking thoughtful at Margaret's words. The political implications of my abilities were becoming clearer—I represented change, and change was always threatening to those in power.

"I'm not here to disrupt or threaten," I said, addressing the council directly. "I'm here to understand my heritage, to learn to control abilities I never asked for but now possess. I seek the council's protection while I navigate this new reality."

"A reasonable request," Richard acknowledged. "And one the council is bound to honor under the Accords. Regardless of potential abilities, a newly transformed werewolf of established bloodline is entitled to recognition and protection."

Marcus looked as though he wanted to object further but restrained himself. "Very well," he conceded. "Let the record show that Evelyn Mitchell, daughter of Eleanor Gray, is formally recognized by this council. She is granted the protections and responsibilities accorded to all werewolves under our governance."

The formal language seemed to carry weight beyond the words themselves. I felt something settle around me—not a physical sensation, but a shift in status that registered on some instinctual level. I was officially part of this world now, bound by its laws but also sheltered by its protections.

"There is the matter of pack affiliation," James Silverton spoke up for the first time. "The Gray pack is extinct. As the last of her bloodline, Eve must align with an existing pack for proper integration into our society."

"The Blackwoods have already taken responsibility for her transition and training," Caleb stated firmly. "It seems natural that she would join our pack."

"Unless she wishes to honor her mother's original pack connections," James suggested smoothly. "The Grays were historically aligned with the Silvertons before Eleanor's... departure. There's precedent for Eve to join our pack instead."

I hadn't expected this—a political tug-of-war over my pack affiliation. The suggestion clearly agitated Caleb, whose posture stiffened beside me.

"The choice of pack affiliation belongs to Eve herself," Margaret interjected, her tone brooking no argument. "As the last of her bloodline, she has the right to choose her allegiance according to the Ancient Accords."

All eyes turned to me, waiting for my decision. I reached out with my newly discovered sense, feeling the web of connections surrounding me. The bonds linking me to Caleb, to Sophia, to Lucas were already strong and growing stronger—natural affiliations forming without conscious effort on my part.

"I choose the Blackwood pack," I said clearly. "My bonds are already forming in that direction."

Relief flowed from Caleb, though his expression remained professionally neutral. James Silverton looked disappointed but unsurprised. Marcus's reaction was harder to read—a mixture of satisfaction and wariness that made me wonder about his true agenda regarding my abilities.

"So be it," Richard declared. "Evelyn Mitchell is recognized as a member of the Blackwood pack, under the protection of its Alpha and subject to its laws and customs."

The formalities continued for another hour—oaths to be spoken, documents to be signed, traditions to be observed. Throughout it all, I remained acutely aware of the political currents flowing around me, the alliances and rivalries that would shape my new life as a werewolf.

By the time the council meeting concluded, evening had fallen. I was mentally exhausted from the concentration required to follow the proceedings and maintain control of my abilities, which tended to flare with emotional intensity.

"You did well," Caleb murmured as we left the chamber. "Better than well. You showed strength without aggression, confidence without arrogance. The council respects that."

"It felt like navigating a minefield," I admitted. "So many undercurrents I'm only beginning to understand."

"You'll learn," he assured me. "And you have me—us—to help you."

The simple promise meant more than elaborate reassurances could have. Whatever complications lay between us personally, I trusted Caleb to guide me through the political landscape of werewolf society.

"Tomorrow is the gala," he reminded me as we walked toward the main part of the mansion. "Your first public appearance as a recognized werewolf. It will be... challenging."

"Because of the politics? Or because I might accidentally wolf out in the middle of the ballroom?" I asked, only half-joking.

"Neither," he said with a small smile. "Because every unmated male werewolf in attendance will be acutely aware of your newly awakened status, your rare bloodline, and your..." He hesitated.

"My what?" I prompted.

"Your scent," he finished, a hint of possessiveness entering his tone. "Newly transformed female werewolves have a distinctive scent profile that's... appealing to males. Add your Gray bloodline and emerging abilities, and you'll be the center of attention whether you want to be or not."

"Great," I muttered. "Werewolf catnip. Just what I needed."

His lips twitched at my phrasing. "I'll be with you," he promised. "As will Sophia and Lucas. No one will bother you without your consent."

The protective note in his voice sent a pleasant shiver down my spine, my wolf responding to the implicit claim even as my human side maintained independence.

"My knight in furry armor," I teased, trying to lighten the moment.

He laughed, the sound warming me from within. "Something like that."