Bloodmoon waited below the ramparts. Hunger had left the wolves thin and their coats matted. Some leaned on each other to remain standing.
I recognized warriors who had once filled the Great Hall with cheers. One still wore ceremonial silver from the coronation, now black at the edges.
Behind them, parents tucked pups under their cloaks against the wind.
Caleb knelt at the front with the Luna’s crown in both hands. Its silver had tarnished, and the moonstones were dark.
“Elara!” His voice carried up the wall. “I read the log. I read all of it.”
He bent over the crown, coughing. “I was a fool. I banished Lily. She’s gone. I sent her into the wastes.”
“Please, come home. The pack is dying. I’m dying without you.” He raised the crown toward me. “Come back and take what was always yours.
