The morning after the attack dawned too quiet.
Silvercrest had always known how to recover from bloodshed. Wounds were bound. Broken walls were repaired. The dead were honored beneath the elder oaks. But this time, the silence that settled over the territory felt heavier than grief. It felt like doubt.
Smoke still curled faintly from the outer ridge where enemy forces had breached the wards. Warriors moved through camp with clipped steps and lowered voices. Conversations stopped when Aria passed. Not out of respect.
Out of suspicion.
She felt it as surely as she felt the pulse of Moonfire beneath her skin.
The glow had saved them. She knew it. When the enemy alpha had nearly shattered the southern line, it was her power that had forced him back, silver-blue flames spiraling like livin
