Morning in Silverfang territory arrived quietly.
Mira woke before the guards changed shifts, which had become a habit she could not break. The stone chamber assigned to her was no longer locked, but the heavy wooden door still felt like a boundary she could not cross freely.
The Mate’s Stay protected her life. It did not give her freedom.
She sat up slowly, listening to the sounds of the stronghold waking around her. Footsteps echoed in distant corridors. Someone laughed in the courtyard below. Metal struck metal in the forge, steady and rhythmic.
Silverfang lived like a real pack and that realization unsettled her more each day.
Nightshade strongholds were built for war, discipline, and hierarchy. Silverfang felt different. Wolves moved with purpose, but not fear. Their voices carrie
