Elara
The night air was thick with magic.
Mist clung to the sacred hills like breath to glass, curling low along the ancient stones where wolves from every corner of Lycandoria had gathered. The stone circle at the heart of the ceremonial field was silent, its rough edges glowing faintly with lunar runes. The ground beneath our feet felt alive, pulsing gently with energy stirred by the full moon above.
She hung there pale, round, and watching. The Moon Goddess. The silent judge of hearts.
Torches flickered in tall iron stands, spaced around the edge of the circle. Their flames danced like nervous spirits, casting long shadows across cloaks and fur and wary eyes. The scent of sage, old bark, and faint ash floated in the air, mixed with wolf sweat and fear. Some carried nerves. Others pr
