The night was restless, filled with the heavy sound of breathing wolves and rustling leaves. The air smelled of storm and danger — the kind that makes your skin prickle before a strike. Lucian and Lyra had been running for hours, their forms weaving through the dark forest, branches tearing at their skin and hair as though the woods themselves wanted to hold them back.
Behind them, the howls came — sharp, coordinated, relentless. The Elders had unleashed the pursuit pack. They weren’t mere soldiers; these were ancient enforcers, bound by blood oaths and magic older than the Northern Forest itself. Their speed was unearthly, their scent locked onto the trail of the Luna-to-be and her fallen Alpha King.
Lucian’s breathing was heavy but steady. His eyes burned a faint gold, his wolf fightin
