Gaven
The mark is not a symbol. That is the lie everyone tells because it's easier than the truth.
It is not ceremony or pageantry. It is not proof for a restless pack that needs something visible to believe in. A mark is binding, tethering one soul to another. It rewrites instincts, reshapes the way the world feels under your skin.
And Fern is not ready for that.
I repeat the thought like a mantra as I stand alone in the training hall long after dawn, my hands braced on the railing, watching the mist burn off the grounds below. Wolves move through drills in practiced rhythm, snarls rising into the air, and claws slashing against flesh.
They are everything that I have worked for. Order. Control. Lines that make sense.
Inside my chest, everything is chaos.
Riddick pa
