The morning after the battle at the archway dawned with a heavy sky. Clouds loomed low over the forest, their edges tinged with the faint silver glow of sunlight struggling to break through. The Blackwood pack had returned to their camp victorious, but the mood was far from celebratory.
Lyla sat near the edge of the clearing, her back resting against a tree. Her body ached from the magic she had wielded to destroy the runes, and her mind was still replaying the battle. Every clash, every burst of energy, every agonised roar from Kane felt etched into her memory.
The forest was restless. Its whispers were louder now, an insistent hum that never quite faded. They spoke of danger, of a shadow that had been pushed back but not destroyed. Lyla closed her eyes, trying to block out the noise, b
