The morning sun cast golden fingers over the cliffside camp, brushing the tents with light as if blessing them for the war to come. A chill wind from the east whispered through the canyons, carrying with it the scent of pine, blood, and prophecy.
Selene stood on a ridge overlooking the valley below, arms crossed over her chest, cloak fluttering in the breeze. Below, the united forces of three rogue clans trained in the clearing—Shadowclaw, Frostbite, and Emberfang. Once bitter rivals, now aligned under her cause. Each banner, each howl, was a thread in the tapestry she’d sewn with courage, pain, and sheer force of will.
She had been the rejected. The forsaken. But now, they called her Luna of the Free.
“I never thought I’d see the day,” muttered a deep voice behind her.
She turned. Ron
