The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 108

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**
**Chapter 108**

In the grand theater, a palpable energy thrummed through the air, charged by the presence of esteemed wolves from the artistic elite. Celestine moved with a grace that belied the tension coiling within her, each step calculated, each gesture precise, as if she were a finely tuned instrument ready to play a symphony of movement. Her heart raced, a wild drumbeat echoing in her chest, but she demanded nothing less than perfection from herself—failure was not an option tonight.

In the front row, the masters of the craft nodded their heads in approval, their expressions a mix of admiration and critique. However, at the center of the audience, Giovanna and Sophia remained inscrutable, their faces betraying no hint of emotion, yet their keen eyes missed nothing.

As the intermission unfolded, the whispers of the surrounding pack grew louder, filled with admiration and speculation.

“Miss Celestine truly embodies the title of the most talented rising dancer. I’ve heard that most of today’s performances are either choreographed by her alone or in collaboration. It’s quite remarkable—any flaws are almost imperceptible,” one observer murmured, his voice tinged with awe.

Yet Giovanna’s gaze was sharp, her brow furrowed in contemplation. “Each dance may seem similar at first glance, but their essence diverges significantly. She’s attempting to showcase too much. As a cohesive, thematic performance, it feels somewhat disjointed,” she remarked, her voice low but firm.

Giovanna had only come because her niece, Agnes, had insisted, dragging along a few colleagues for what she deemed an essential experience. In truth, had it not been for Agnes’s enthusiasm, she would have steered clear of this performance entirely. She had encountered this young wolf before and recognized the raw hunger glimmering in her eyes. While ambition could be a powerful ally, past interactions had left Giovanna wary of the girl’s true intentions. A lecture for Agnes was in order—after all, not every wolf deserved unfettered access to such prestigious circles.

Sophia’s assessment was succinct and to the point. “Technique sufficient, spirit lacking,” she said, her tone devoid of embellishment.

The two longtime friends exchanged a knowing glance, their unspoken thoughts far more candid than their public critiques.

“In my opinion, Julia displays a greater raw talent within the troupe. I don’t understand why Miss Ward is more celebrated,” Giovanna mused, her voice barely above a whisper.

A contemplative pause lingered between them. “For my next piece? I’m seriously considering collaborating with Julia,” Sophia replied, her eyes glinting with potential.

It was Julia herself who had extended the invitation to them; after attending her recent performance, they had exchanged contact information and spoken warmly. Yet today, the wolf who had beckoned them into this world had failed to make an appearance, leaving Sophia and Giovanna to share a knowing smile, shaking their heads at the unpredictable nature of youth.

Backstage, Celestine was acutely aware of every movement in the audience, her ears tuned to the blend of praise and criticism swirling around her. If it had been any other time, anxiety would have gripped her heart, but tonight was different.

Giovanna and Sophia were titans in their field; their high standards were to be expected. Celestine took a deep breath, trusting that once her final dance began, all lingering doubts would be obliterated.

A wolf of divine talent, her choreographic spirit rivaling the legends of old—that was precisely what Sophia sought for her upcoming international production.

Julia might have had the advantage of an opening, but if it weren’t for the unfortunate injury inflicted by Aysel Vale, that opportunity would never have been hers. Yet a substitute was just that—a substitute. Celestine was determined to reclaim what was rightfully hers.

Julia would lose.

Even if viewed through a lens of objectivity, Celestine possessed an undeniable presence when illuminated by the spotlight.

Julia scrutinized her rival, her wolf instincts honed to detect every shift, every subtle pose. Across the theater, familiar faces of Celestine’s admirers leaned forward in eager anticipation, already envisioning the moment when the bouquet would be presented after the final bow. Family, beauty, talent, reputation—these were the weapons Celestine wielded with lethal precision.

Julia’s mind drifted to Magnus, who had escorted them into the venue. From the moment they arrived, he had been occupied—on calls, managing pack affairs, or attending to Aysel’s needs. His gaze rarely strayed toward Celestine on the stage. Not once did he acknowledge her presence.

Thoughts of Aysel’s childhood companions flitted through Julia’s mind, a wry smile tugging at her lips. Losing a trivial seed only to grasp a full fruit—sometimes, fate had a peculiar way of working.

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