The world did not celebrate its survival.
It held its breath.
Dawn crept over Nightfall with muted colors, as if even the sun feared disturbing what had been broken. Pale gold light slipped through the shattered forest, touching scorched earth and splintered stone with hesitant fingers.
Lucien stood alone at the center of the ruined circle.
Three days had passed since the moon’s return, and still the pack whispered.
They whispered of a sky that had gone dark.
Of a woman who had stepped into death and never come back.
Of an Alpha who no longer healed.
Of a power that lingered in the air, thick and watchful.
Lucien felt it constantly.
Not as strength.
As absence.
Every breath reminded him that she was gone.
Every heartbeat echoed too loudly in the hollow space she had left behin
