Elara
By morning, the storm had passed.
The village smelled of wet earth and pine, while sunlight sparkled on the leaves as though the mountains had never known darkness.
But I knew better.
Darkness wasn’t always found in storms.
Sometimes…
It smiled.
Sometimes it whispered.
Sometimes it wore a familiar face.
I had learned that much already.
As I entered the estate kitchens, the servants hurried from one corner to another, carrying baskets of flowers, ribbons, and polished silver trays.
“What happened?” I asked the head cook.
She barely looked up.
“The Festival of the First Moon.”
I blinked.
“I thought it wasn’t until next week.”
“It was moved forward.”
She frowned.
“Alpha Rowan says the pack needs something to lift their spirits after everything that’s happened.”
A fest
