Chapter 35 Preparations

• Light flooded the packhouse corridors, illuminating controlled chaos as Maera, the head omega's voice, cut through the air like a blade. "Maria, those linens won't press themselves. Willow, check the crystal again—every piece must sparkle." Her weathered hands gestured with military precision, directing the storm of activity that had consumed the territory since dawn.
• The head omega moved through the frenzied preparation like a seasoned general commanding her troops. "Those silver trays need another polish," she called out, her keen eyes catching every imperfection. "Mind the spacing on those candles—they must be exactly three inches apart."
• Young omegas darted past carrying bolts of burgundy fabric for table runners, their arms laden with buckets of winter roses and garlands of evergreen boughs, securing fresh wreaths to bannisters every few feet. Polished crystal goblets caught the light like scattered diamonds, whereas crimson ribbons cascaded toward marble floors that reflected morning sunlight streaming through tall windows.