The backlash begins at dawn, and it does not arrive with claws or fangs or open declarations of war, but with whispers that move like smoke through the pack before hardening into accusations as priests from the temple gather in the courtyard and refuse to step inside the packhouse, their white robes stark against the dark stone while they raise their voices in judgment.
“The manifestation is not divine,” one of them declares loudly, and his words carry across the clearing with the certainty of someone who believes faith is stronger than evidence. “It is corruption.”
Temple loyalists nod in agreement, and the murmurs spread quickly through the wolves who still cling to the version of history they were raised on, because faith is easier to defend than truth and tradition is easier to cling
