Chapter 220 Divided

Chapter 220 Divided
The sacred ceremony ended in silence.
No one stayed to exchange pleasantries or celebrate the renewal of tradition. The conversations that broke out across the Sacred Hall were quiet at first, filled with careful glances and measured voices, but beneath them ran an unmistakable current of unease.
Piper remained where she was, Irene’s notebook still clutched tightly against her side.
The words she had heard during the ceremony refused to leave her mind.
The prophecy had been changed.
She was certain of it now.
Not because of a feeling, but because the evidence no longer fit together any other way. The ritual the priestess had recited, Irene’s notes, and everything Cecil remembered pointed to three different versions of the same prophecy. 
Someone had altered its meaning long ago, and generation after generation had accepted the revised version as unquestionable truth.
Ember stepped beside her.
“You’ve been quiet.”
Piper let out a slow breath.
“I’m trying to understand how something this important could be changed without anyone noticing.”
“Maybe nobody wanted to notice.”
Piper looked toward the elders gathered near the centre of the hall.
“I don’t think that’s it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think they believed what they were taught. If every generation inherits the same version, eventually no one remembers there was ever another one.”
Ember followed her gaze.
The elders had separated into small groups, and it didn’t take long to notice how deliberate the divisions were. Frostfang stood together on one side of the hall. Crescent Moon had gathered on the other. Between them, the leaders of the neutral packs exchanged uncertain looks, clearly aware that remaining neutral was becoming more difficult with every passing day.
The distance between the groups was only a few steps.
It felt much greater.
An elder from one of the northern packs cleared his throat.
“The attacks have continued for too long,” he said loudly enough for everyone nearby to hear. “Whether anyone wants to admit it or not, someone has declared war.”
A Frostfang elder folded his arms.
“We’ve buried just as many of our own.”
“And Crescent Moon claims the same.”
Another voice joined in.
“Then one of you is lying.”
The words echoed through the chamber.
Murmurs spread almost instantly. Warriors shifted where they stood, hands drifting closer to the weapons at their sides. No one reached for a blade, but the possibility lingered in the air.
Piper felt her stomach tighten.
This wasn’t a discussion anymore.
It was the beginning of something much worse.
Across the hall, Elsa watched the argument unfold with unsettling calm. She didn’t raise her voice or demand anyone take action. Instead, she stepped toward the leader of a neutral pack and spoke quietly enough that only those closest could hear.
“You’ve seen the evidence for yourself,” she said. “Every attack seems to lead back to Frostfang.”
The older Alpha frowned.
“It also points toward Crescent Moon.”
Elsa sighed, as though disappointed by his hesitation.
“Exactly. Doesn’t that tell you someone has become desperate enough to stop hiding?”
The Alpha didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
The uncertainty on his face was answer enough.
Elsa offered a sympathetic smile before moving on to another group, planting the same seed in different words.
Piper watched her go.
“She’s doing it again,” she murmured.
Ember followed her gaze.
“Turning fear into certainty.”
Piper nodded.
“She doesn’t have to convince everyone. Just enough people.”
Nearby, another argument erupted.
“If Frostfang refuses to cooperate,” one Alpha declared, “my pack will withdraw every patrol from the eastern border.”
A Crescent Moon elder laughed bitterly.
“So we’re abandoning one another now?”
“We’re protecting our own.”
“So are we.”
The conversation dissolved into overlapping accusations.
Every sentence widened the gap between the packs.
Every accusation became another reason not to trust the other side.
Rollins noticed it too.
Standing a short distance behind the Crescent Moon delegation, he watched the room with the quiet patience of someone who had survived enough political conflicts to recognise one before it exploded. 
His gaze followed Elsa as she drifted from group to group. She never raised her voice or openly took a side, yet every conversation she left seemed to make another Alpha a little more suspicious than before.
“She isn’t choosing a side,” he murmured under his breath. “She’s making sure everyone else does.”
One of his warriors stepped closer.
“Should we step in?”
Rollins kept his eyes on the gathering leaders and slowly shook his head.
“Not yet.”
“If this continues ”
“I know.”
His gaze swept across the Sacred Hall once more. Frostfang warriors had instinctively tightened their formation, while Crescent Moon’s guards mirrored the movement across the room. 
Even the neutral packs had begun moving closer to whichever alliance they believed offered the better chance of survival.
No one had told them to move.
Fear was doing that well enough on its own.
A heavy realisation settled over him.
Whoever had manipulated the prophecy and buried the truth for decades hadn’t simply planned for conflict. They had planned for this exact moment a room full of leaders who no longer trusted each other enough to listen.
If one sword was drawn inside these walls, every pack would leave convinced someone else had started the war.
Piper looked toward Archie.
He wasn’t speaking.
He simply stood among Crescent Moon’s delegation, his jaw clenched as he listened to leaders who seemed more interested in blaming each other than uncovering the truth.
For the first time, she saw uncertainty in his eyes whenever the council spoke.
Not doubt in himself.
Doubt in them.
For a brief moment, his eyes found hers across the crowded hall.
Neither of them smiled.
Neither of them moved.
Too much had been left unsaid between them, and now the distance felt greater than the few yards separating them. 
Piper could still see the conflict written across his face, but duty had placed him on one side of the room while she stood on the other.
Rollins followed his gaze before looking away with a quiet sigh.
Duty had already taken too much from the next generation.
If the council continued down this path, it would take far more than broken relationships.
It would destroy the fragile peace their parents had spent years trying to rebuild.