The morning of the wedding did not bring the celebratory warmth the pack had expected. Instead, a thick, silver mist crawled off the river, swallowing the trees and muffling the sounds of the village as if the earth itself were trying to hide what was about to happen.
Aria stood in the center of their small cottage, her hands trembling as she held the ritual basin of water.
It was an ancient tradition, the sister of the groom was tasked with the final cleansing of his hands before he stepped onto the wedding platform.
It was supposed to be a moment of family pride, but for Aria, it felt like she was preparing a man for his execution.
Liam sat on a wooden stool, his back straight and unyielding.
He was dressed in the heavy wedding furs Elena had brought, the dark pelt making his skin l
