Luna Anya's Perspective
Twenty-four hours had passed since Calla collapsed on the packhouse steps, her golden light finally extinguished as exhaustion claimed her. I sat beside her bed in the medical wing, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, trying not to let my worry show when other pack members checked in.
Dr. Morgan, our pack physician, had examined her thoroughly and declared her physically unharmed—just drained beyond anything he'd seen before. "She needs rest," he'd said. "Her body is still adjusting to the power she accessed. Let her sleep as long as she needs to."
But I wasn't satisfied with that assessment, no matter how competent Dr. Morgan was. What Calla had done yesterday—creating that network of supernatural connections, channeling power from beings hundreds of
