Chapter 618

[ 1,041 words ]

[Third Person].

Weeks passed quietly, and two significant changes had already occurred before the Annual Hunting Festival arrived.

First, Reginald Fellowes’ house arrest ended. Officially, he was once again a free man. Unofficially, Draven still had eyes on him at all times.

Second, Xamira was no longer inside the palace. Draven had arranged it carefully. Without any scandal or suspicion, she had been removed discreetly only to return in a far more useful form.

—

This morning, in Meredith’s Queen’s chambers, the windows were open to let in the cool air of the festival day.

A flash of green streaked through the sky, then a small green bird slipped inside and landed neatly on the carved table near the balcony doors.

Meredith, who had been fastening the clasp on her hunting cloak, turned immediately. The bird chirped softly, and she walked toward it without hesitation.

To anyone else, it was meaningless sound, but to Meredith, it was clear speech.

“Nothing suspicious in the Fellowes residence. No unusual visitors. No hidden gatherings. Reginald remains calm.”

Meredith listened carefully, her expression thoughtful. “Keep watching. Keep listening,” she instructed quietly.

The bird dipped its head once. Then it took off again, vanishing into the morning sky.

Meredith exhaled slowly. She did not trust Reginald’s calm, at least not today.

—

Meanwhile, the atmosphere in the Fellowes residence was different.

Reginald stood dressed in dark hunting attire with a straight posture and sharp eyes. The humiliation of weeks past had refined him.

Wanda adjusted her gloves in silence while Levi fastened the strap of his quiver. Though they were no longer nobles and their family name carried no formal weight, the Annual Hunt was open to all of Stormveil.

Victory today meant recognition. Recognition meant influence, and influence meant opportunity.

Reginald looked at his children. “Today is not about enjoyment,” he said evenly. “It is about restoration.”

Wanda lifted her chin slightly, while Levi nodded once.

“There are rules,” Reginald continued. “But every rule has gaps. Find them, use them, and win.”

His tone was calm but firm. “You must bring honour back to this house.” Then, he stepped past them toward the door.

As they followed him outside, A faint, nearly imperceptible smile touched his lips.

—

The Annual Hunt began beneath a wide stretch of forest clearing, where tall pines circled the open grounds like silent sentinels.

Large banners bearing Stormveil’s crest fluttered between trees. Fires had already been lit in stone pits, long wooden tables arranged beneath canopies, musicians tuning their instruments while servants carried trays of spiced meats and warm bread.

At the centre of the clearing stood a raised wooden platform draped in deep royal blue. Upon it were two carved seats for the King and the Queen.

Draven and Meredith stepped forward together as drums began to roll. The gathered wolves bowed in unison. Even those who would soon compete bent their heads.

Then, Draven raised one hand, and the murmuring forest stilled. “The Annual Hunt,” he began, his voice carrying easily across the clearing, “is a tradition of strength, discipline, and unity.”

He let his gaze sweep across the participants. “This is not a battlefield. It is not a place for grudges.” Right then, his tone sharpened slightly. “No wolf shall injure another. No wolf shall kill another. Any who breaks this law will answer directly to the Crown.”

A ripple of acknowledgement moved through the crowd.

Draven continued, “You hunt for skill. For honour. For reward. The wolf who returns with the most game before sunset will receive gold, land privileges for the coming year, and public recognition from the throne.”

Immediately, excitement stirred among the younger wolves.

Meredith sat poised beside Draven, observing calmly as she scanned the crowd. She noted Wanda standing among the competitors, focused. Levi stood near her, quieter but equally determined.

Neither dared look toward the royal platform.

Draven gestured toward the open forest beyond the clearing. “The borders are open for this festival, but this ground remains protected. You hunt within marked territory only. Stray beyond the designated zones, and you disqualify yourself.”

A final drumbeat echoed.

“To Stormveil’s strength,” Draven declared.

A unified roar answered him in return.

Then the competitive displays began—brief, controlled combat exhibitions between chosen warriors meant to energize the crowd. Wolves sparred in human form first—swift strikes, calculated blocks, and applause following impressive technique.

Laughter and cheers erupted as one particularly dramatic Beta overbalanced himself and fell flat in the dirt.

But when the mood had peaked, Draven stood once more. “Let the hunt begin!”

The word rang out like a bell. Then, one after another, the participants shifted—fur rippling across skin, bodies elongating, paws striking earth. Grey, brown, black, and russet wolves surged forward in powerful waves, racing toward the forest depths.

Among them, Wanda’s wolf darted ahead with keen intensity as Levi followed closely behind. Within moments, the forest swallowed them.

Back at camp, music swelled. Dancers stepped into the clearing as traditional hunting songs rose into the air. Nobles and former rulers conversed beneath shaded tents as wine flowed freely.

Draven and Meredith remained seated, dignified and observant.

The forest stood quiet beyond the marked boundaries, sunlight filtering through leaves as the hunt unfolded deeper within.

—

Beyond the marked boundary lines, the forest came alive with vigorous movement.

Wolves scattered through brush and shadow, paws pounding against damp earth, noses low, instincts sharp.

But among them, two dark shapes moved with calculation rather than instinct. Wanda and Levi.

They did not waste their energy chasing every scent. They tracked other hunters.

When a smaller grey wolf cornered a stag after a long pursuit, Wanda burst from the undergrowth at the final moment, snapping sharply and driving the exhausted wolf back with a warning snarl.

Levi lunged in from the opposite side, finishing the kill cleanly.

The angry grey wolf hesitated, but the rules were clear. No wolf was to injure another. Snatching prey was not forbidden. It was a loophole, and the Fellowes siblings exploited it repeatedly.

A pair of younger hunters lost two hares to Levi’s sudden ambush. Another wolf, panting after dragging a boar across uneven ground, watched helplessly as Wanda muscled her way in and claimed credit.

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