Silvercrest smelled of rain and fresh-turned soil. Three days of steady showers had washed away the last tacky streaks of blood, leaving the earth dark and fragrant—ready for something new to grow.
Evelyn breathed it in from the mansion’s east veranda, arms folded against a lingering chill. In the distance, the rebuilt watchtowers caught early sunlight, cedar beams still raw and honey-bright. Children’s laughter drifted up from the paddock where apprentices practiced footwork between fence posts. Life—tense but determined—was returning.
Aria lay quiet in the back of Evelyn’s mind, exhausted yet content. We kept them safe, the wolf murmured. Now we teach them how to thrive.
A door clicked behind her. Luna Seraphina stepped outside carrying two steaming clay mugs. Her silver braid—once sh
