Xavier
The moon hung low, a silver eye watching Lycandoria with quiet judgment. The night air pressed heavy on my skin, thick with the taste of iron and storm. Even the wind seemed to hesitate, curling and dying as though it, too, feared what tomorrow would bring.
Tomorrow Isabella’s trial.
The thought churned like acid in my chest. Every corner of the pack was restless. Warriors sharpened their blades longer than needed, the scrape of steel carrying into the dark. Servants whispered in hallways, their voices trembling as if speaking her name might summon curses. Wolves paced the borders with twitching ears, smelling both danger and change in the air.
I could feel it everywhere. In the way the elders’ eyes lingered too long on Dominic. In the way the pack looked at me with something b
