The Silvercrest Pack had always been known for its grandeur, but now, it breathed a new kind of life—one born from survival. The war-torn edges of their land still bore the scars of fire and blood, yet the people moved with renewed purpose. Blacksmiths hammered in rhythmic unity. Warriors trained harder. Children played louder. And at the center of it all stood Evelyn Rivers—Luna.
Evelyn moved through the pack grounds dressed not in formal silks but in black tactical gear. Her Luna mark burned faintly on her skin, a reminder that leadership was not about a title—it was about sacrifice.
Her footsteps echoed as she approached the newly rebuilt Council Hall. The old one had crumbled during the battle with the Guardian. Kendall had insisted this one be less of a throne room and more of a pla
