The night arrived with an unnatural stillness, the air thick with something unseen yet unmistakably oppressive. Overhead, the partial Blood Moon had risen earlier than expected, its crimson glow spilling over the war camps, casting flickering shadows across tense faces. Wolves from all sides stirred uneasily, their breaths heavier, their movements sharper. The cursed moon pulsed with an ancient energy, sending a ripple of heightened aggression through every warrior gathered.
Layla stood at the edge of the Stormborn camp, staring up at the sky, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. The energy of the Blood Moon clawed at her mind, whispering violence, hunger, war. She closed her eyes, forcing slow, steady breaths, but the visions came anyway.
Blades clashing. Teeth sinking into fles
