Amara’s POV
The moon does not rise all at once.
It seeps.
Silver light bleeds slowly into the sky, thinning the darkness until the night itself seems to hesitate. I feel it long before I see it, a pressure beneath my skin, a slow tightening along my spine that has nothing to do with fear or hunger.
This is not how full moons usually feel. There is no wild pull, no frenzy in my blood. No itch beneath the skin begging for release.
This feels deliberate.
I stand barefoot on the cold stone of my chamber, hands braced against the window frame as the first sliver of moonlight clears the mountains. The wind carries distant howls across Blackthorn territory; it is low, restrained and reverent. Not the unbridled cries of a pack losing itself to lunar madness.
Even the wolves here feel it.
S
