Morning came slowly to Nythera.
Mist rolled across the valley where the old village stood, curling around broken foundations and newly cleared paths. The ruins still carried the scars of twenty years of abandonment, but every day the place looked a little less like a graveyard.
Wolves moved through the clearing with quiet purpose.
Some rebuilt collapsed walls.
Others hauled stone from the edge of the forest.
A group of younger warriors trained near the council platform, their movements sharp and disciplined under Ronan’s watchful eye.
Nyx stood at the edge of the training ground.
Her arms were folded across her chest, but her attention was fixed on the warriors.
“Again,” Ronan barked.
Two wolves lunged at each other in quick succession, claws flashing as they shifted partially bet
