The Lunar Fang Packhouse had never looked so alive. Ribbons and lanterns swayed between the beams of the great hall, white silk draped over archways like flowing rivers of light. Crystals from Creek Mountain pulsed faintly with lunar glow, casting an ethereal shimmer across the polished wood floors. Music drifted through the air, soft and lilting, the kind that made even the most battle-worn warrior feel like something magical was about to happen.

Celeste adjusted the neckline of her dress and ...