Chapter 55: Two Heirs of Nightvale

Malcolm Reed's arrest should have simplified things.

Instead, Orion filed his succession claim the next morning.

Rowan found out through PackFeed.

I found him staring at his phone.

"How bad?"

He handed it to me.

ORION VALE FORMALLY CHALLENGES NIGHTVALE SUCCESSION.

"Pretty bad."

"Thank you."

Nightvale law allowed a recovered heir to petition for reinstatement if death had been presumed incorrectly.

Orion was older than Rowan.

That mattered.

But Rowan had been formally named heir for over a decade.

That mattered too.

The Moonwell Charter complicated everything further.

Under its rules, succession required Pack recognition, not blood alone.

Nightvale would vote.

Rowan hated it.

"Not the vote."

"What then?"

"That people think I should hate him."

"Do you?"

"I don't know him enough."

He sat on the cedar steps.

"He was my hero when I was little."

I stayed quiet.

"He taught me to shift without panicking. He used to sneak me into the kitchens at night."

"That sounds illegal."

"Very."

"And then he disappeared."

"Yes."

"You mourned him."

"Yes."

Now Orion wasn't a memory.

He was competition.

I understood more than I wanted to.

Rhea and I had faced a version of that.

Two heirs.

One title.

People expecting rivalry.

"You don't have to fight him because everyone expects you to."

Rowan looked at me.

"You're saying that as someone who threatened your cousin within twenty minutes of meeting her."

"Growth."

He laughed.

The Nightvale public debate was held three days later.

Orion spoke first.

He was good.

Annoyingly good.

He talked about Council corruption, buried law, and his years living outside formal Pack protection.

He argued Nightvale needed someone who understood what unchecked central authority could do.

Then Rowan spoke.

No dramatic speech.

He admitted Nightvale had failed Orion.

He admitted the Council needed reform.

Then he said something nobody expected.

"If Nightvale chooses Orion, I will respect it."

Whispers spread.

Orion's expression changed.

Rowan continued.

"I want to lead. I believe I'm prepared to lead. But if my claim depends on preventing wolves from choosing someone else, then I haven't learned anything from the charter we're trying to restore."

I smiled.

That was my boy.

Voting remained open for twenty-four hours.

We returned to Lunaris.

Rowan pretended not to check the results.

He checked every eleven minutes.

"Stop."

"I'm not checking."

"Your phone is literally open."

"Weather."

"The weather app doesn't show percentages next to your name."

He put it down.

Ten minutes later, I caught him again.

At midnight, voting closed.

Nightvale chose Rowan.

Sixty-three percent.

Orion received thirty-four.

Three percent abstained.

Rowan stared at the result.

Relief crossed his face.

Then guilt.

"Call him," I said.

"What?"

"Orion."

"Now?"

"Yes."

Orion answered on the third ring.

Rowan put it on speaker.

"Congratulations."

"Thank you."

Silence.

Then Rowan said, "I want you on the reform council."

I stared at him.

Orion was equally surprised.

"Why?"

"Because thirty-four percent of Nightvale chose you."

"That's not usually how winners treat challengers."

"Maybe that's the problem."

Long silence.

"I'll consider it," Orion said.

"Good."

The call ended.

I looked at Rowan.

"That was very Supreme Alpha of you."

"Don't ruin the moment."

"I mean it."

He leaned back.

"Do you think I was stupid?"

"Possibly."

"Helpful."

"But not for asking him."

"Then why?"

"Because now Rhea will insist every election loser gets a committee."

He groaned.

"You're right."

The next morning, Orion accepted.

Not quietly.

His statement said:

I remain convinced Rowan Vale is annoyingly optimistic. I will join the reform council to prevent him from becoming unbearable.

I liked him slightly more.

Nightvale's succession crisis ended without bloodshed.

For Pack politics, this was apparently revolutionary.

But Malcolm Reed had left one final problem.

Investigators found a list in his private files.

Names of young wolves across twelve Packs.

Beside each name was a ranking.

Strong.

Weak.

Useful.

Disposable.

At the bottom was a planned event.

The Ascension Trials.

I read the date.

Two weeks away.

Rowan's face hardened.

"What are they?"

Adrian answered.

"An old inter-Pack competition."

"Why does Reed have a list?"

Adrian looked grim.

"Because this year, someone planned to make the trials lethal."

Rowan's victory also taught Nightvale something about losing. Orion's supporters were not punished, demoted, or treated as suspicious. Rowan met several of them personally and asked what had drawn them to Orion's platform. Some answers were uncomfortable. They felt ignored by central Nightvale leadership. They wanted faster reform. They distrusted the Council. Rowan wrote every complaint down. When I teased him about becoming a professional note-taker, he said elections were useless if winners only listened to people who had already agreed with them. I kissed him for that and then told him his handwriting was still terrible.

Before the day ended, I wrote the lesson into my private Alpha journal. I had started keeping it because memory changed under pressure, and I wanted a record of what decisions felt like before hindsight made them seem obvious. I wrote down the mistakes as carefully as the victories. Future me deserved the truth, not a polished legend.