The procession continued long after the Royal Capital had disappeared beyond the horizon.
The cheers of thousands...
The waving banners...
The proud smiles of families...
Gradually became distant memories.
Now...
Only the rhythmic sound of countless footsteps filled the road.
The long line of competitors stretched for nearly a kilometer.
The First Order led the procession.
The Third Order followed closely behind.
The Fourth Order brought up the rear.
Though each Order marched beneath its own banners...
The atmosphere was surprisingly peaceful.
...
The road wound through rolling hills blanketed with wildflowers.
Crystal-clear streams crossed the ancient path.
Towering oak trees lined either side, their branches swaying gently beneath the summer breeze.
Many of the younger competitors couldn't help but admire the scenery.
"So this is the old Pilgrim's Road..."
A common-born girl from House Umbraxis whispered.
"I've only ever heard stories."
An older escort nodded.
"It was built before the Four Orders existed."
"Every generation has walked this road."
The young competitors instinctively fell silent.
The realization settled over them.
They were walking where countless legends once had.
...
Near the front of the Third Order...
Riven walked beside Nyss.
Neither spoke for a while.
Eventually...
Riven smiled.
"I imagined this journey would feel more..."
He searched for the right word.
"Dangerous?"
Nyss giggled softly.
"No."
"...Grand."
She looked around.
"It already is."
Riven blinked.
She gestured toward the endless line of young werewolves.
"Look."
He did.
There were nobles laughing with farmers.
Hunters teaching tracking tricks to merchants' sons.
Young wolves exchanging stories of their hometowns.
Different accents.
Different backgrounds.
Different lives.
Yet all walking toward the same destination.
Nyss smiled.
"This is what the Moon wanted."
Riven found himself smiling as well.
"Yeah..."
"I think you're right."
...
Ahead...
Zoldick had somehow inserted himself into a conversation between competitors from all three Orders.
"So..."
"Who's the strongest here?"
A burly youth from House Drakhar grinned.
"Me."
Immediately...
A girl from House Silverfang scoffed.
"You wish."
"I'm serious."
"You couldn't even beat my older sister."
"My older sister isn't here."
"Exactly."
Laughter erupted around them.
Marlis pinched the bridge of his nose.
"We haven't even traveled half a day..."
"...and you've already started."
Zoldick shrugged.
"Better than marching in silence."
Even Marlis couldn't argue with that.
...
Several hours later...
The sun reached its highest point.
The procession paused beside a wide meadow to rest.
Water barrels were rolled from supply wagons.
Meals were distributed.
Immediately...
The atmosphere transformed.
Young competitors scattered across the grass.
Some rested beneath trees.
Others began sparring.
Several common-born competitors challenged noble heirs to friendly matches.
Victories were celebrated.
Defeats accepted with smiles.
No one held grudges.
Not today.
...
Roran had already gathered a crowd.
"Come on!"
"Who's next?"
A young hunter stepped forward.
"I'll try."
Within seconds...
THUD!
The hunter landed harmlessly on the grass.
Roran offered him a hand.
"You're strong."
"You just lean too far forward."
The hunter accepted the advice gratefully.
Nearby...
Lord Vadok quietly watched.
He smiled faintly.
"He's becoming quite the instructor."
Eryx nodded.
"Strength means little if it can't inspire others."
...
Elsewhere...
Lyra sat beneath a large tree sketching the landscape into a small notebook.
A curious girl from House Lunaris approached.
"You draw?"
Lyra smiled shyly.
"A little."
The girl looked at the page.
The drawing was beautiful.
"You should enter the Moon Festival."
Lyra laughed.
"I think I'll stick to fighting."
...
As the afternoon passed...
Competitors gradually mixed together.
Old rivalries disappeared beneath shared excitement.
Even warriors from the First and Fourth Orders began exchanging techniques.
Watching from nearby...
Queen Nyxara smiled.
Selene noticed.
"Our children get along better than our ancestors ever did."
Nyxara nodded.
"Perhaps..."
"They'll build something better than we inherited."
...
As evening approached...
The escorts finally called for camp.
A broad clearing surrounded by ancient trees became the first campsite.
Within minutes...
The older warriors demonstrated remarkable efficiency.
Tents rose across the clearing.
Cooking fires crackled to life.
Water was drawn from a nearby stream.
The enormous camp resembled a temporary village.
...
Riven helped unload supplies from one of the wagons.
As he lifted another crate...
Someone effortlessly took the opposite side.
He looked up.
The young man from House Drakhar.
The one who had greeted him earlier.
"You lift."
"I'll carry."
Together...
They placed the crate beside the cooking area.
The young man extended his hand.
"Kieran Drakhar."
"Riven."
"I know."
Riven laughed.
"I suppose everyone does."
Kieran shrugged.
"You've made a name for yourself."
"You planning to win?"
Riven thought for a moment.
"I'm planning to do my best."
Kieran smiled.
"Good answer."
"My answer is different."
"Oh?"
"I'm planning to win."
They stared at each other.
Then both burst into laughter.
Nearby...
Several competitors relaxed.
The rivalry had begun.
Not with hostility.
But with mutual respect.
...
Night gradually settled across the land.
Above...
The Moon rose.
Brilliant.
Silent.
Watching.
Hundreds of young werewolves gathered around dozens of campfires.
Stories echoed through the camp.
Songs from different villages drifted through the night air.
One group sang traditional hunting songs.
Another shared humorous tales of failed training sessions.
Even some of the older escorts couldn't resist joining in.
For one peaceful evening...
There were no Orders.
Only young werewolves enjoying the beginning of a journey they would remember for the rest of their lives.
...
Far from the laughter...
Near the edge of the clearing...
The Elder of the Lunar Sanctuary stood atop the sanctuary walls.
His ancient eyes gazed toward the distant horizon.
Though the travelers were still days away...
He could already feel them.
Hundreds of young hearts.
Each burning with hope.
His expression softened.
"The next generation..."
His gaze drifted toward the silver gates behind him.
"They are almost here."
For the first time in decades...
The Sanctuary would once again echo with youthful voices.
And beneath the eternal light of the Moon...
Ancient trials, untouched by time, patiently awaited those worthy enough to challenge them.