WREN'S POV
The Silver Pack estate had never felt so crowded. The allied packs had begun to arrive in droves, warriors and emissaries from Stormfang, Blackclaw, and several smaller packs filling the courtyards and meeting halls. The air buzzed with tension, every conversation laced with mistrust and barely veiled accusations.
I stood at the balcony overlooking the main courtyard, watching as the warriors sparred in preparation for the celestial event. Their movements were sharp and deliberate, but the unease in their stances was unmistakable.
Lyra’s voice echoed softly in my mind. “They’re scared, Wren. And fear is a dangerous thing.”
Hunter joined me, his expression grim as his eyes scanned the scene below. “It’s a powder keg,” he said quietly. “One spark, and it’ll all come apart.”
I
