Amara’s POV
Sleep does not come gently.
It drags me under like deep water, cold and heavy, pressing against my chest until I can no longer fight it. My body gives in before my mind does, exhaustion claiming me with ruthless efficiency after the night’s awakening.
The last thing I feel is the faint pressure of the collar against my throat, no longer humming with dominance, no longer resisting me, but aware. As though it, too, is waiting.
I fall.
Not into darkness but into silver.
Moonlight stretches endlessly in every direction, an expanse so vast it steals my breath. There is no horizon, no sky, no ground, yet I am standing, solid and whole, my bare feet resting on a surface that glows like polished bone.
I know this place instinctively.
Every wolf does. It’s the Spirit Plane, a pl
