The night before the battle was oppressively still. The air was thick, charged with an energy that prickled against Lyla’s skin. She stood on a ridge overlooking the Blackwood camp, the flickering light of torches below illuminating the faces of her packmates as they prepared for the coming fight. She clenched her fists, her body still adjusting to the forest’s power coursing through her veins. It felt both exhilarating and suffocating, a constant reminder of the price she had paid.
Behind her, the forest seemed to breathe, its whispers growing louder as the blood moon climbed higher in the sky. Lyla felt the weight of its gaze, as though the moon itself was watching, waiting.
“Lyla,” Eli’s voice called from behind her.
She turned to see him approaching, his expression lined with concer
