The heavy bronze doors loomed before them, etched with the twin symbols of the Volkov bloodline: the crescent moon and the roaring wolf.

Beyond those doors, an ocean of strangers waited.

Selene stood nearest to the threshold, her slender frame upright, golden-blonde hair cascading over a pure white robe embroidered in faint blood-red patterns — the royal colours of Tepes. Her red eyes were steady, unblinking.

Risa hovered just behind her, sharp ears twitching once. She rolled her shoulders back, black hair gleaming under the light, emerald eyes flashing with caged energy.

Kumiko stood silent and elegant to the side, golden eyes half-lidded, the light catching on the delicate embroidery of nine golden tails unfurling across her back. The hem of her robe barely brushed the floor.

Nikita, all pale hair and stormy eyes, cracked her knuckles once, the only sign of nerves betraying her wolfish lineage. Her white robe had simple but bold Fenrir designs stitched in dark steel threads — understated power.

Lunaria gripped the edge of her robe, her silver eyes darting toward the doors. Her long white hair framed her face, and the small wolf ears on her head twitched as if she could already feel the pressure waiting outside.

And Amphitrite — a silent force at the rear — shifted her hips slightly, balancing gracefully even with the heavy weight of her hybrid body. Her long pink hair bouncing over her shoulders, the subtle shimmer of blue scales catching every flicker of light.

A low chime echoed down the corridor.

Their signal.

The attending steward — an older Volkov retainer in black and silver robes — stepped forward without a word and placed his palm against the doors.

The bronze groaned open.

Light spilt over them, fierce and blinding. The low rumble of voices swelled into a roar of whispers as thousands of eyes turned toward the newly crowned wives of the Volkov Patriarch.

Incense and celestial energy filled the air, thick and almost choking.

Without exchanging a single glance, the six women stepped forward, their feet touching the crimson carpet as one.

The Festival of the Moon had begun.

Risa shifted on her feet as the crimson carpet stretched out before them. “They’re staring already,” she muttered, her tail lashing once behind her.

“Smile bigger,” Nikita whispered back, lips barely moving. “Show ’em the fangs.”

“I’ll show them my foot if they keep looking at my chest,” Risa grumbled, tugging the neckline of her robe higher.

Selene, poised as ever, stepped forward first. “Dignity,” she murmured calmly, voice low but sharp. “Remember where we are.”

The hall opened in front of them, wide and packed with people. Bright chandeliers threw clear light over the crowd — vampires in deep red robes, werewolves in dark suits, nekomata nobles with their tails flicking back and forth. Above them, black drones floated quietly, cameras blinking as they recorded everything.

Lunaria hesitated a step behind the others, silver eyes flickering wildly across the crowd. Too many people. Too many eyes.

She stumbled.

Kumiko moved like water, her hand brushing lightly against Lunaria’s lower back — a small nudge, invisible to all but them.

“Steady, little one,” Kumiko murmured under her breath, not missing a step.

“Thanks,” Lunaria whispered, cheeks burning.

Amphitrite gave a low, musical chuckle from behind them. “Relax. We’re the prettiest things in this building. Let them choke on it.”

As they walked, Selene’s gaze swept the hall, cool and assessing. A cluster of Tepes elders nodded subtly toward her, though one older vampire woman offered only a tight, thin smile, her eyes locked onto Lunaria with a gaze that felt like needles.

“Ignore them,” Selene said quietly, catching Lunaria’s hand for a brief squeeze before letting go.

Risa bumped shoulders lightly with Nikita. “Bet I can catch more stares than you.”

Nikita smirked without looking at her. “Sweetheart, you couldn’t outshine a candle.”

Ahead, the dais rose into view, haloed by pale, flickering flames.

The girls straightened as one, the final steps under that crushing storm of attention carrying them into the heart of the beast.

The murmurs from the crowd ebbed, thinning into a waiting, heavy silence.

The stage was set.

The moment their feet touched the steps of the platform, everything got sharper.

Kumiko moved first, bowing low and smooth. Her golden hair and tails shimmered under the lights. Selene followed, her bow graceful and perfect, barely ruffling her robe.

Nikita’s bow was quick, strong. Risa threw in a tiny flick of her tail at the end, earning a few chuckles from the Nekomata watching. Lunaria hesitated — just a second — before copying Selene exactly. Amphitrite barely bowed, more like a queen humouring a crowd.

As they straightened, a sharp voice rang out.

“The wives of the Patriarch: Selene of Tepes, Risa of the Nekomata, Kumiko of the Kitsune, Nikita of the Fenrir, Lunaria of New Blood, and Amphitrite of the Deep!”

The names echoed through the air.

From the front of the crowd, important guests started stepping forward to offer greetings. The vampires from the Tepes clan moved first, all dressed in black and red robes that looked like old blood.

A tall woman led them — silver hair, red eyes, skin pale as marble.

“So bright the new blood shines,” she said, her voice sweet but sharp.

“Almost… pure.” Lunaria froze, silver eyes wide. Before she could say anything, Amphitrite smiled lazily, stepping forward just enough to draw attention.

Despite being the daughter and princess of Tepes, it seemed many didn’t accept her taking on a new form and became hostile.

“Purity’s a funny thing,” Amphitrite said, voice cool. “Some call it strength. Others hide behind it.”

A few soft chuckles ran through the crowd. The woman’s smile tightened, but she said nothing more, stepping back into the Tepes group.

Selene leaned closer to Lunaria, just enough for her voice to carry.

“Don’t let those old fools upset you,” she whispered. “You’re stronger than any of them.”

Lunaria nodded, swallowing hard.

The girls stayed side-by-side, shoulders brushing, as more guests came forward, their faces masked behind fake smiles.

A heavy ceremonial song echoed through the hall — a low, deep sound that rolled through the crowd and pulled every head toward the side entrance.

The doors opened without fanfare.

Nikolai stepped through the doors like he owned the air itself. His black robe caught the light, silver trim gleaming at the edges. His hair was loose around his face, a little rough like he hadn’t bothered to fix it after crushing the last council meeting. His red eyes swept over the crowd, slow and cold, and the room shifted with him — even the boldest ones dropping their gazes when his passed over them.

The pressure in the room thickened.

His celestial aura wasn’t fully released, but it didn’t need to be. It leaked around him in slow waves, enough to make even the strongest people here remember why they followed the Volkov name.

Selene’s hand brushed Lunaria’s for half a second, steadying her without a word, as Nikolai crossed the hall toward the stage. He didn’t smile or rush himself, calm and composed with a sharp gaze, making the crowd wait for him.

As he reached the platform, the girls turned slightly, falling into formation without needing a signal. Nikolai stopped just behind them, standing tall, his hands folded calmly behind his back.

He didn’t touch them — the ritual forbade it — but the weight of his presence settled over them like a second skin.

All around the hall, the noise dropped into full silence. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, his voice cut through the air, calm, deep, absolute.

“Greetings, thank you all for coming. I am Nikolai Báthory Volkov,” he said. “And these are my wives.”

No grand speech or empty promises.

Just truth — heavy and sharp enough to leave the crowd breathless.

One by one, the guests started to move.

They came down the long walkway — leaders of the Moonlight Alliance, vampire elders, kitsune nobles, merfolk diplomats — each carrying some token of respect.

The first was the Fenrir clan. A massive wolfkin, his suit straining over thick muscles, stepped forward with a heavy silver armband in his hands. Without a word, he dropped to one knee and held it out to Nikita.

Nikita smiled — a sharp, almost cocky smile — and bent low enough to take it. She locked eyes with him for half a second. He bowed deeper before standing and returning to his place.

Next came the Kitsune, robed in layers of gold and white, faces hidden behind fox masks. One of them, a tall woman with nine thin tails flicking behind her, carried a silk fan painted with a blooming moonflower.

Kumiko stepped forward, hands steady as she accepted it with a graceful bow. Her golden eyes never left the masked woman’s face, even when the woman whispered in old Kitsune tongue, too soft for the crowd to hear.

“May the petals stay whole… until the storm comes.”

Kumiko smiled politely, like she’d been complimented, tucking the fan neatly into her sleeve.

Behind her, Risa made a face, “Creepy.”

Then came the Tepes.

A young vampire, dressed in deep red, approached Selene and Lunaria carrying a small black rose wrapped in silver wire — a mourning flower.

He held it out without speaking.

Selene’s face didn’t move. She reached out, her fingers closing around the stem without flinching. Lunaria mirrored her a second later, taking hold of the ribbon tied around it.

They bowed together — stiff, perfect.

Amphitrite leaned closer to Risa and Nikita, her voice low. “They’re testing how much it’ll take to make us crack.”

“Good luck with that,” Nikita muttered, flexing her fingers at her side.

A few more minor clans came, offering easier gifts — scrolls, crystal vials, things meant for decoration or ritual.

Then Lev Markov stepped forward, silent as a shadow.

He carried a strip of black cloth, folded tightly in both hands. No words, no expression.

Kumiko moved again, smooth as a ripple, and took it.

She bowed — deeper this time — a gesture that said: I see your threat. And I am not afraid of it.

Lev’s dark eyes glinted for a second, the closest thing to a smile, before he vanished back into the crowd.

A beat of silence hung in the air.

The Festival of the Moon had officially begun.

And the real battle for Nikolai to gather loyalty, power, and survival — had just started.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep