For a moment after the words were spoken, the world seemed to forget how to move.
“The seal of your father…”
The messenger’s voice still hung in the air like a wound that had not yet been closed. No one breathed properly after it. Even the rain outside, still dripping weakly from the eaves of the command shelter, sounded distant, as though the storm itself had stepped back to listen.
Nyra did not move at first.
She simply stared at him.
At the young wolf standing at the entrance with mud streaked across his face and fear carved deep into his expression. His hands trembled slightly at his sides, as though even delivering the message had cost him something.
Her father’s seal.
Those words did not feel real.
They did not settle like language normally did.
They struck somewhere deeper,
