The morning broke soft and gray, mist curling low across the Bloodstone training fields. The air smelled of pine and steel, the faint hum of warriors sparring echoing through the grounds. Preparations had begun days ago — patrols doubling, scouts rotating every six hours, supplies sorted and sealed in the storage barns.
For the first time since Katherine’s fall, the pack moved as one heartbeat.
Crystal stood near the edge of the field, watching as a pair of younger wolves shifted mid-spar, their movements sharp but unrefined. Dustin’s voice carried from the far end of the field — firm, calm, instructive. He had stepped back into command effortlessly, but there was a gentleness to him now that hadn’t existed months ago.
“Keep your stance low,” he said, correcting a soldier’s form. “You’r
