Scars of Victory
The first sound Selene heard was the howl of grief. It came from the courtyard, long and broken, the kind of sound that seemed to split the night in two. She froze where she stood by the high window, her fingers tightening against the sill. Below, wolves had gathered, their heads bowed, torches burning low in the silence between cries. Funeral rites. Her chest tightened as her eyes found the rows of shrouded bodies lined across the stone floor. Warriors who had fallen during the blood moon’s battle, brothers and sisters of Shadowfang who would never rise again. Their fur and flesh had been wrapped in silver-threaded cloth, their weapons placed upon their chests. Elders sprinkled herbs and ash, whispering blessings to the moon goddess. The sight drove a knife into Selene’s chest. She pr
- Writer
