Morning never came.
At first, no one understood it.
The night stretched longer than it should have, the darkness lingering across the land as if dawn had simply been delayed. Wolves stirred in their sleep, restless in ways they could not explain, shifting beneath blankets, pacing in quiet rooms, waking without knowing why.
Something felt wrong.
Deeply wrong, in a way that no one could express with words but they could all feel it.
Lucien opened his eyes into darkness.
For a moment, he didn’t move. His senses stretched outward instinctively, searching for the familiar shift that came with sunrise—the subtle warmth, the change in air, the quiet awakening of the land.
It wasn’t there.
His brow furrowed.
He turned his head slightly toward the window.
Still dark.
It was not night.
I
