~ Alaric’s POV ~
The night bled into something feral — a darkness that pulsed, ancient and hungry, pressing against the Silver Moon Packhouse like a living thing.
Outside, frost clung to the skeletal branches of old pines, and a sickly sliver of moon hung low, its glow barely piercing the snow-dusted grounds. The scent of old blood lingered since sunset, no matter how many times the stone was scrubbed or how fiercely the wind howled. It clung to the soil like a curse.
I paced my study, the leather of my boots whispering against the worn floorboards. The amber glow of a single lantern cast restless shadows over walls littered with old battle maps and blood-stained treaties. My wolf, Davon, prowled beneath my skin, a storm rattling against the cage of my bones.
I couldn’t name what I fe
