The forest was silent, almost eerily so. After the storm of battle under the Blood Moon, Silvercrest was holding its breath, waiting to exhale.
Evelyn sat on a mossy boulder at the edge of the pack border. Morning dew clung to the blades of grass beneath her boots, and the sky above shimmered a calm pale blue. The stillness should have comforted her—but it didn’t.
Because peace always came with a price.
Behind her, the ruins of Ravenfang smoldered faintly, ashes carried away by the wind. The ritual had been stopped, but not without cost. Four warriors had died—one of them young Layla, barely seventeen. The girl’s laughter still echoed in Evelyn’s ears. She had always wanted to prove herself. She did. She saved others by giving her life.
Evelyn clenched her fists. Her mark glowed faintl
