The morning mist hung low over the forest as Lucy wandered through the Bloodmoon Pack’s territory, the relic’s weight still heavy in her pocket. Every instinct told her it was important, but the symbols on its surface remained an enigma. Even Karl’s explanation about the prophecy had raised more questions than answers.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the faint sound of rustling in the distance. Lucy froze, her senses sharper than ever. Her wolf instincts stirred, warning her of something—or someone—approaching.
“Who’s there?” she called, her voice steady despite her racing heart.
No answer came, but the rustling grew louder. Lucy took a step back, her hand brushing the pocket where the relic was hidden.
Suddenly, three figures emerged from the trees, their postures predatory. They wer
