The crimson-tinted night sky loomed overhead, pregnant with the dark promise of the Eclipse. In a secluded clearing deep in rogue-held territory, a massive bonfire crackled and spit embers into the thick air. Its flames danced across an array of symbols and runic lines scratched into the earth, forming a sprawling circle that pulsed with an eerie glow.
Around the clearing’s perimeter, rogue wolves beat on heavy drums—a thunderous rhythm echoing through the surrounding trees. Each heartbeat of the drums sent a jolt of tension pulsing through the crowd. Their eyes gleamed with excitement, an undercurrent of fear rippling just beneath.
Aria stood at the circle’s center, breath shallow, half-lost in the primal thunder of the drums. Her cloak hung from her shoulders, revealing the runic amule
