The hum didn’t disappear after Miguel’s surge.
It matured.
That was the only word that fit.
It felt less like a background vibration and more like a pulse with intention. Not unstable. Not suppressed. Not chaotic.
Aware.
That was the part that unsettled me.
Resonance was no longer just something happening to enhanced wolves.
It was something they were beginning to shape.
And shaping power without understanding it was how revolutions turned into dictatorships.
We gathered the core facilitators at the estate three days after the surge.
No formal Institute banner. No press.
Just chairs in a wide circle in the training hall.
Twenty-three facilitators from twelve territories.
Miguel sat among them, pale but steady.
I stood in the center.
“We crossed a line,” I said.
No one argue
