The Moon Doesn’t Ask for Permission to Shine
The moon hung heavy over the Blood Valley Pack, casting a pale glow over the forest that surrounded the packhouse. A haunting silence cloaked the land, broken only by the rustling of leaves and the slow, uncertain footsteps of Lyra as she walked alone through the courtyard, her arms wrapped around herself for warmth. She felt hollow. The confrontation with Killian replayed in her mind on a cruel loop—the fury in his voice, the disbelief in his eyes when he saw her wrapped in King Theron’s cloak. As if that was the greatest betrayal. As if her pain, her survival, her strength to stand at all… meant nothing. He had marked another. And now he dared to be angry. Her chest tightened as she remembered the look on his face when he realized she hadn’t come back for him—when she didn’t fall to
- Writer
