Third Person POV
The pack was filled with tension that night, every corridor filled with whispers, the walls themselves seemed to carry. Patrols doubled in numbers and warriors moved in pairs, servants kept their heads low. Something had shifted in the air, everyone could feel its presence, even the furniture seemed to be holding its breath.
And at the center of it all, Jasmine.
She strolled through the main hall in her silk gown, white as freshly fallen snow, her chin tilted high. To any passing eye, she was grace itself — the Almighty Crescent’s daughter, the jewel of alliances, the woman many already called Luna. But beneath that polished veneer, cracks spread. Spoiled. Pampered. ill-mannered. Her lips twitched when no one was looking. Her hands clenched too tightly against her skirt
