LEAH
It’s strange, really. How someone so ethereal can talk about war and death like she’s describing the weather, like it’s nothing. Her voice is soft, like wind weaving through the trees. But her words aren't, they land like blades. Cutting through any and every thing.
She talks about the Council’s fears. About how wolves are too wild, too bloody. How Lycans are too dominant. How the world trembles when creatures like Lucian rise. I try not to bristle, but I eventually do.
“Not all wolves are walking catastrophes, you know,” I say, tucking my hands into the sleeves of my robe. “Some of us just want to wake up, train, and maybe not die before breakfast.”
A ghost of a smile flickers on her lips. “And yet you chose him.”
“Or maybe the moon chose me for him. I wasn’t exactly handed a
