The snowstorm worsened overnight.
By morning, Black Hollow was buried beneath layers of white so thick that patrol wolves struggled to move through the forests beyond the packhouse walls. Winds howled across the territory, rattling windows and carrying the scent of frost deep into the halls.
Yet the cold outside felt easier to survive than the growing tension inside Lyra’s chest.
She stood alone in the library balcony overlooking the lower courtyard, arms wrapped tightly around herself while servants and warriors hurried below preparing for the incoming storm.
The Lunar Court remained in Black Hollow.
And ever since their arrival, the atmosphere surrounding the pack had changed again.
Wolves stared longer.
Whispers stopped when she entered rooms.
Even the air around her felt heavie
