(Maria POV)
The night was still there when Maria returned.
She didn’t ride or shift. She walked, every footstep soaked in the power that now clung to her like a second skin. Her cloak was torn, her eyes shadowed, and a pale glow lingered on her fingertips—as if the moon itself had chosen her body to nest in.
The guards bowed when they saw her. They didn’t ask questions. They only opened the gates, awed into silence.
The packhouse stood quiet in the darkness, lanterns glowing in the windows like distant stars. It was home. But now... Maria wasn’t sure if she felt like she belonged there anymore.
Inside, everything was just as she’d left it. The scent of pinewood, ash, and leather lingered in the halls. The hum of a half-forgotten song came from the kitchen, where she could hear someone
