Roxy leaned against the carved stone balustrade of the grand balcony, the warm, sun-drenched breeze catching her dark curls.

The harsh, biting winter frost that had blanketed the Vanguard territory for months had completely melted away, giving way to a sudden, breathtakingly vibrant Beastworld spring. The earth was soft, the ancient trees were budding with vibrant green life, and the air smelled heavily of blooming jasmine and roasted meats.

She looked down at the sprawling grounds of the Iron-Wood Manor, her brilliant green eyes completely, radiantly glowing with pride at her children’s leadership.

What had started as a heavily sealed piece of parchment rolled out onto a dining table had officially transformed into the grandest, most magnificent spectacle the continent had seen in a millennia. The Iron-Wood Manor and its surrounding grounds had completely transformed into a massive, buzzing festival. Enormous silk pavilions in the colors of the five major factions were erected across the rolling hills. Banners snapped in the wind, and the deafening, chaotic symphony of hundreds of shifter children laughing, howling, and roaring echoed up to the Heavens.

However, the absolute, heart-palpitating chaos became incredibly real when the massive iron-wrought gates of the Manor had finally groaned open that morning to admit the first wave of foreign competitors.

Roxy had stood on the balcony, her heart in her throat, watching a massive caravan of young, boisterous wolf pups, haughty swamp serpents, and rowdy tiger cubs flood into the courtyard. She had gripped the stone railing, fully expecting the Manor to be completely leveled in a matter of hours.

But as the dust settled, Roxy let out a massive, profound sigh of relief. The rival pack leaders had not simply released hundreds of feral, super-powered children into the wild. Every single noble pup had arrived flanked by a highly organized retinue. They came with strict, exasperated official guides, and more importantly, at least four heavily armored, terrifyingly disciplined adult protectors from their respective tribes to ensure their safety and enforce absolute manners.

With the logistical nightmare of crowd control slightly mitigated by the visiting guards, the Vanguard pups were left to completely dominate the execution of the tournament. And they were training fiercely.

Down in the central pavilion, Tanith was holding court. The ten-year-old snake-shifter had completely forgone her childhood innocence, channeling the absolute, terrifying administrative genius of the Swamp King. She stood behind a massive wooden table, surrounded by towering, heavily armored Vanguard generals who were taking orders directly from her. Tanith was ruthlessly organizing the combat brackets, drawing lines of chalk on slate boards, completely unyielding as she paired the most arrogant visiting nobles against her own siblings.

Out in the expansive training fields, Iris and little Fedor were completely altering the fabric of reality.

Iris and Fedor were working in terrifying, flawless tandem. Fedor, possessing the raw, unfiltered trickster magic of a fallen god, would giggle and clap his tiny hands, summoning massive, shifting landscapes of golden fire and bottomless ravines.

Iris, possessing the meticulous, tactical discipline of the Vanguard, would instantly weave the illusions into complex, breathtaking, and highly dangerous combat arenas for the tournament. They were building mountains out of thin air.

She was relying on mere strength to make sure everything was intact and safe for all of them.

Meanwhile, Axel and Onyx were refusing to rely on magic alone. The twin wolf pups were relentlessly sparring in the lush, blooming garden. Because it was no longer the snow period, the soft spring earth provided entirely new traction. They moved with terrifying, lethal Northern precision, their small bodies covered in dirt and sweat as they traded lightning-fast blows, dodging and striking. They were fiercely determined to ensure they brought absolute honor to the North, completely refusing to let a single visiting pup upstage the Matriarch’s bloodline.

Roxy’s heart swelled with so much love she thought it might physically burst. They were magnificent.

But the sheer, overwhelming majesty of the children’s initiative was currently being violently entirely overshadowed by the absolute, ridiculous absurdity of their fathers.

Roxy shifted her gaze toward the VIP viewing platform constructed just off the main armory.

The Alpha Kings—the five most terrifying, invincible, and blood-soaked warlords on the continent—were acting like absolute, unapologetic stage parents. All pretenses of dignified, aristocratic Warlord grace had been violently thrown out the window the second the first visiting pack arrived.

They were leaning over the wooden railings, their combat auras aggressively flaring as they placed ridiculously high-stakes bets with each other on whose biological children would perform the best, bringing a lot of hilarious, fiercely competitive banter back into the Vanguard dynamic.

"I am putting the entire western sapphire mines on the twins," Kaelen announced, the King of the North crossing his massive arms over his chest. His icy blue eyes were tracking Axel and Onyx’s flawless footwork in the garden, his chest puffed out with blinding pride. "Their coordination is entirely unmatched. The Southern tigers won’t even be able to track their movements."

"Sapphire mines?" Torian scoffed loudly, the colossal White Tiger Alpha slamming his heavy hand down onto the railing. His tail lashed aggressively behind him. "Keep your shiny rocks, Kaelen. I am betting the complete inventory of the central armories on Tyara. Once she hits the arena, raw feline strength is going to completely obliterate your little tactical dances. She is going to flatten them."

"You are both entirely delusional," Zarek rumbled, a thick plume of arrogant, dark smoke curling from his nostrils. The Dragon King leaned back, casually swirling a goblet of wine. "Drax isn’t even competing in the youth bracket, but if we are discussing raw, destructive superiority, the dragon bloodline remains unchallenged. I will bet the entire eastern mountain range that not a single pup here could survive three minutes against him."

"And yet, it is my daughter currently dictating the rules of engagement," Syris drawled smoothly, his emerald eyes glinting with immense, cunning satisfaction as he gestured toward Tanith organizing the brackets. "Combat is for soldiers. Administration is for rulers. I wager the southern trade routes that the Swamps completely control the outcome of this tournament before a single blade is even drawn."

Caspian burst out into a rich, deep-sea laugh, entirely amused by the absolute madness of his brothers as he casually wagered a fleet of Vanguard merchant ships on little Zale’s elemental magic.

Roxy just looked at them, shaking her head. The greatest rulers in the universe were currently gambling their geopolitical assets on a children’s sparring match.

She let out a soft, exasperated sigh and lowered her gaze.

Sitting directly beside Roxy on a plush velvet cushion was small Tyara. The little girl was currently in her toddler form, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders, her bright blue feline eyes completely wide as she stared out at the bustling, roaring festival below.

Tyara wasn’t running through the mud with the twins, nor was she drawing up complex war brackets with Tanith. But the violent, eager twitch of her small foot and the intense, focused stare of her predatory eyes completely betrayed the feral tiger blood humming beneath her skin. She wanted to be down there. She wanted to throw a punch.

Roxy reached out, gently tucking a stray curl behind Tyara’s ear.

"Do you want to join them?" Roxy asked softly, her voice full of tender, maternal warmth.

Tyara whipped her head around to look at her mother, her bright blue eyes practically shining with barely contained excitement. She looked back at her siblings in the garden, entirely hopeful, practically vibrating with the biological urge to go assert her dominance over the visiting packs.

Roxy smiled, her heart completely melting at the sheer, unadulterated ferocity packed into such a tiny, adorable frame.

"Go help," Roxy encouraged, offering a reassuring nod. "But be careful, darling."

Tyara didn’t even waste a single fraction of a second to nod or say thank you. The absolute moment she received the Matriarch’s permission, the toddler scrambled off the velvet cushion. She quickly started waddling away as fast as her small legs could carry her, entirely ignoring the grand staircase in favor of making a beeline toward the gardens, completely consumed by the urge to join the fray.

Roxy chuckled warmly, the sound completely lost to the wind and the roaring Warlords beside her. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

She leaned back against the balustrade, the sun warming her skin. She rested her hand gently over her pregnant belly, feeling the heavy, comforting weight of her growing family. She watched the terrifying Kings arguing over gemstones, and she watched her tiny daughter waddling off to wage war in the mud.

"Children," Roxy whispered softly to the spring breeze, a beautiful, profoundly peaceful smile gracing her lips, "will always be children."