The storm arrived before dawn.
Thunder rolled across Black Hollow territory while heavy rain battered the towering windows of the pack house. Wind howled through the mountain forests like restless spirits beneath the moonless sky.
Inside the eastern infirmary, healers worked through the night.
The infected warrior’s condition worsened with every passing hour.
And Luna Lyra had not slept at all.
She stood beside one of the infirmary windows watching rain streak against the glass while Mira crushed herbs nearby with visible frustration.
“The fever should’ve broken hours ago,” the elderly healer muttered.
The warrior lying on the cot groaned painfully.
Black veins spread farther beneath his skin now, curling around his throat like poison.
Lyra’s stomach tightened.
“He’s getting wors
