The echoes of her name followed Aria out of the hall.
“Aria of Nightfall.”
The words still buzzed in her bones as she stepped into the cold. Behind her, the feast rolled on — louder now, looser, half the pack already arguing over who drank faster or ran farther. Out here, the sound blurred into a warm roar under the clear, sharp night.
She leaned her back against the outer wall and tipped her head up.
Stars scattered hard and bright between the bare branches. Her breath curled white in front of her face. The cold bit at the places the fire hadn’t reached.
Her wolf paced in small circles under her skin, restless and pleased.
Ours, the animal part of her said again — meaning the hall, the fire, the voices that had just shouted her name.
“For once,” Aria whispered, “yeah. Ours.”
The d
