The summit reached its midpoint beneath a fragile illusion of control.
Wine had been poured. Formal grievances were being aired with carefully measured words. Alphas postured without baring teeth, and Lunas smiled with eyes that missed nothing. From the outside, it looked like diplomacy was holding—tense, brittle, but intact.
Aria knew better.
The pressure inside her skull had not eased since her vision. If anything, it had grown denser, compressing time and sound into something thick and distorted. Every laugh rang too loud. Every movement felt delayed, as though the world were wading through water.
Then the ground shuddered.
It was subtle at first—a low, distant thrum that vibrated through the stone beneath their feet. Several wolves paused mid-sentence, brows furrowing. Glasses rat
