The night air was thick with tension as Vesper walked into the den of FostHowl’s resident shaman. The flickering flames of the fire cast ominous shadows on the walls. He could feel the change in the bond he shared with Marris. Their connection, once a source of overwhelming lust, now felt like a fragile thread, flickering like the flames and fraying at the edges. It was unsettling, and he couldn’t shake the growing sense of unease. Marris was his greatest weapon of destruction. Everything would come tumbling down if lost her for any reason.
“Shaman,” he called, his voice echoing through the dimly lit cavernous space.
An older wolf with deep-set grey eyes and a flowing silver mane stepped forward from the shadows. His presence was a calming and foreboding mix, a reminder of the ancient po
