A strange sensation lay over the Tuguluk camp that morning, as if even the steppe itself knew that something irreversible would be decided that day. The cold bit at the skin, dew dampened the fingers, the buzzing of insects brushed the ear, and beneath their feet, the steady pulse of water reminded them that the world kept moving forward, indifferent to the doubts of men.

  A dragonfly settled on a blooming lily. No one noticed. A drop of dew slid down a leaf and fell into the stream, breaking the silence with a brief murmur that joined the persistent buzzing of insects and the soft crackle of wet vegetation. The sun began to rise over the steppe, slow and relentless.

  Golden light stripped the mountain peaks of darkness. The valley grew vast, breathing through every living being it sheltered, like an ancient sanctuary watching without intervening.

  But the men paid no heed to that wonder.

  Their faces were hard, their gazes evasive, their gestures restrained. The same tension could be read in every expression: they knew not all would emerge unscathed from what was about to be discussed.

  The master of ceremonies, Ulgen-Sakhar, had summoned the notables to the yurt of Chief Toruk. At the entrance, Toruk stood upright, bearing the rigidity of a man carrying an invisible weight. At his side, Zhana, his wife, pressed her lips together, while Sora, their daughter, observed in silence, aware that every pair of eyes was measuring her.

  One by one, the representatives of the clan’s seven great groups arrived: warriors, trappers, trackers, herders, artisans, merchants, and notables. The latter, though fewer in number, were the ones who ultimately tipped the fate of the people.

  When all were seated around the fire, Ulgen-Sakhar stepped forward. The flames illuminated his face, carved with wrinkles and shadows.

  —A new horizon opens before our people —he said.

  The fire crackled. No one answered.

  Ulgen-Sakhar swept his gaze around the circle, lingering for a moment on each face.

  —For that reason, it is necessary that all of us —he paused, letting the silence grow heavy— and I repeat: all of us, commit to defending our clan against the rest.

  As he spoke the final words, his eyes fixed on Taimur, known as the Wolf of the East. The air seemed to tighten.

  —We are gathered here —Toruk then took the floor— because our position grows weaker by the day. You know that in only a few days we will meet, along with the other clans, at the Council of the Peoples of the Plains.

  The assembly nodded slowly. Everyone knew the consequences of those gatherings: fragile pacts, old grudges, decisions capable of saving lives… or condemning them.

  Outside, the wind began to blow from the east.

  People started to gather around the yurt, drawn by an unease they could not explain. As the minutes passed, anticipation swelled like an underground murmur, an invisible current pulling everyone toward that point in the camp. No one could hear the council’s words, but many felt that something was breaking —or being sealed— within.

  Inside the yurt, the fire snapped sharply as Toruk raised his voice.

  —Many of you —he continued— see my daughter as a threat to the continuity of our supremacy in trade and negotiation with the Chinese.

  His words hung in the air like thick smoke. Toruk waited for a reply. None came.

  The silence was not neutral: it weighed, observed, judged.

  Some lowered their eyes to the fire; others clenched their fists. Sora, motionless, felt that silence cling to her skin.

  —I tell you that I will respect your decision —Toruk went on, his tone heavier— but I also tell you that we must first ask ourselves whether a marital alliance with another clan is not, perhaps, the only path left for our survival.

  The flames cast twisted shadows on the yurt’s walls, as if ancient spirits were listening closely.

  Then Taimur stood.

  The movement was abrupt, almost violent, and it seemed to disturb the very air. His eyes burned with more than disagreement.

  —I oppose it! —he roared—. I will not allow an alliance to place us in a position of inferiority. We will not hand over our future in exchange for empty promises.

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  Ancient hatred vibrated in his voice, resentment that had not been born that day.

  —We can negotiate the terms, dear Taimur —Ulgen-Sakhar intervened, raising a conciliatory hand—. In other times, we have sealed honorable agreements with other tribes.

  Taimur slowly turned his head toward Toruk. He smiled, but there was no humor in it.

  —We all know what we’re talking about —he said—. There’s no need to speak the name.

  No one did.

  And yet, everyone thought of the Banuk.

  A clan that had once been vassal. A clan that now, under Askat’s rule, had become a growing shadow over the plains. An imbalance. An affront. A portent.

  The fire whispered louder, as if it had recognized the unspoken name. Outside, the wind blew again from the east, and for a moment, some swore they felt the plains themselves fear the rebirth of old aggressions.

  The murmur burst like a crack in the ice.

  Voices overlapped, first restrained, then firmer, until the council’s harmony shattered completely. The representatives argued in tense clusters; some struck the ground with their staffs, others raised their voices without waiting their turn. The fire seemed to swell wildly with the discord, casting shadows that no longer held any shape.

  —This is not prudent —said one of the merchants—. Such a marriage would weaken us before the other clans.

  —And staying alone, then? —a herder shot back—. The plains are no longer ours as they once were.

  Toruk tried to restore order, but his voice was lost among the others. This was no longer a council: it was an open wound.

  Taimur stepped toward the center of the circle.

  —If you refuse to form an alliance with another people —he said coldly— then we must consider another way to preserve the clan’s power.

  His eyes shifted, just for an instant, toward Sora. Inwardly restless and outwardly still, she sensed the true nature of the confrontation unfolding before her, and it filled her with dread.

  —Perhaps the time has come to accept that the lineage does not need to be shared… but protected.

  The murmurs died at once.

  Some understood immediately. Others felt a chill without knowing why.

  Ulgen-Sakhar frowned.

  —You speak lightly, Taimur.

  —No —he replied—. I speak with loyalty.

  Sora felt something change. Her mind drifted away for a brief moment.

  The noise of the council grew distant, as if the air had thickened. The fire ceased to murmur in her ears, and time itself seemed to pause. A gentle pressure tightened around her chest—not fear, but a calling.

  She lifted her gaze.

  For an instant —only one— the walls of the yurt vanished.

  She saw the steppe stretched beneath an impossible night sky, the stars slowly turning as if tracing an ancient map. One of them shone brightly, isolated, fixed above her forehead. It was not a threat. It was a promise.

  Sora held her breath.

  Without words, she understood that not all paths demanded marriage; that another road existed, lonelier, higher… and more dangerous. A path where power was not shared: it was assumed.

  She blinked.

  The vision faded, but the sensation remained, burning, real.

  Taimur was watching her.

  No one else seemed to notice anything, but he did. He always did. His eyes reflected no ambition, only an ancient, silent devotion he had never dared to name. He knew he could not marry her. Blood forbade it. Law as well.

  But to protect her…

  That was different.

  —If Sora rules —he said at last, breaking the silence— I will assume the duty of guardian of the lineage and swear to support her with my own life, when adversity comes.

  The words fell heavy, irrevocable.

  The council did not respond. It could not—yet.

  The fire crackled again. Outside, the wind turned over the steppe, lifting dust and omens.

  The council had not closed.

  But it had already broken.

  And Sora, her heart still vibrating to the rhythm of the stars, knew that nothing would ever be the same again. She also knew that it was within her power to change the minds of those who had not supported her.

  She looked at Taimur and found comfort in his gaze. Now she felt safer than ever, with the Wolf of the East at her side.