Octavia's Point of View
The house is quieter than I remember.
Lunaris has always had a hum, a constant heartbeat of wolves moving, voices echoing through corridors, laughter spilling from the training fields. But tonight, after dinner, it feels still.
I close my door softly behind me, leaning against it for a second just to breathe. The room smells like home, cedarwood and moonflower oil, the faint trace of the lavender sachet my mother always tucks under my pillow. It is familiar. Comforting. Yet… it does not feel the same.
Or maybe I am not the same.
I pull off my jacket, drop it onto the back of my chair, and glance around. Everything is exactly where I left it months ago. But the girl who used to live here? She had not seen wolves tearing through smoke or watched her friends risk
