Harley’s death sent shockwaves through Blizzard Moon’s citadel, the news rippling like a dark curse during the council’s aftermath. The Dark Moon alpha, bound and awaiting trial, had been found lifeless in his warded cell.
King Torren ordered an immediate investigation, white witches led by Elder Seraphina descending on the cell with glowing runes and whispered incantations.
After days, his corpse still lay led cold while being examined, eyes wide in frozen surprise, black foam dried at the corner of his mouth. No wound, no breach in the wards—just death delivered from afar.
Elder Seraphina, the white witch with hair like moonlight and eyes that had seen centuries, knelt beside the body. Her fingers hovered over his chest, light pulsing from her palms.
“Dark soul-binding,” she said gr
