Xavier
The morning air was cool, sharp with the scent of dew and pine. My boots pressed against damp earth as I stood in the training grounds, the warriors assembled before me in neat rows. Their armor gleamed faintly in the pale sunlight, their eyes steady, waiting for my command.
It struck me then how quiet they stood. No shifting feet, no murmurs of doubt. Only silence, heavy but respectful.
Once, when I had first stepped into this pack, that silence would have been cold, suspicious. Now, it was different.
Now, it was listening.
I inhaled slowly, letting the crisp air fill my lungs, steadying the restless thrum inside me. My gaze swept over them the scars on their faces, the lines of fatigue, the pride burning beneath their eyes. Men and women who had bled for Lycandoria. And here
