The night had gone still, but Ivy’s blood refused to rest.
The courtyard lay in ruins—the altar cracked, the stones slick with blood both silver and red. The sharp scent of iron clung to the air, mixed with the heavy musk of wolves that had fought, bled, and fallen beneath the moon’s merciless gaze. Shadows stretched long across the ground as the firelight sputtered, painting broken stone and shattered chains in hues of orange and black.
Wolves had retreated into uneasy silence, their ranks fractured. Some pressed themselves to the ground in reverence, ears pinned back and throats bared to her. Others lingered on the edges, pacing restlessly with eyes that darted between her glowing silver aura and the darkness where Arthur had disappeared. Fear and uncertainty clung to them like a secon
