Sera stood beneath the broken chapel dome, moonlight slicing through cracks in the stone. Her breath trembled in the frozen air, the golden sigils on her skin still faintly glowing.
Noah stood beside her, steadying her shoulders. “You sure about this?"
She nodded. “The world must hear."
A circle of survivors surrounded them—Rowan, Mira, wounded soldiers, orphans, healers.
Sera stepped forward. Raised her voice.
Soft. Then clearer.
“I call the Moon."
No one had ever heard her speak like this.
“I call the blood that remembers. I call the wolves that wandered. I call what Shadowvale lost—and what it must become again."
Her hands lifted.
From her throat, a howl rose—not wild, but resonant. Ancient. Commanding.
The Lunar Resonance Rite.
Silver poured from the broken ceiling. It stru
