Liora POV
The oracle’s words cling to me like damp mist, heavy and impossible to shake. Two days have passed since the grove, yet everything feels tilted, as though the ground beneath my feet has shifted without warning. The packhouse carries on—warriors training, omegas laughing, pups chasing each other through the halls—but inside me, a storm churns. The blood moon looms three weeks away, a silent countdown to a ritual I barely understand, and Aria remains caged, her presence a faint, frustrated pulse that grows stronger only when Kai is near.
This morning, the Alpha office is a blur. My hands move on autopilot, sorting patrol logs and border reports, the familiar scents of ink and old leather doing little to ground me. I keep circling back to the oracle’s voice: The Silver Dagger… hid
