THE MASK OF SHADOWS
Dawn broke over the forest, but the light was pale, muted, as though the world itself held its breath. Wolves moved through the undergrowth with calculated precision, muscles coiled, ears alert, tails low but tense. Every patrol, every step, every glance was sharpened by the events of the night before—the infiltration, the rift, the whispers that had clawed at their minds, twisting fears into tangible pressure.
Lykos walked at the center of the clearing, silver eyes scanning the horizon, jaw tight, aura pulsing with barely contained energy. He could feel the weight of every wolf’s fear, hesitation, and doubt—and he refused to let it fester.
Aria moved beside him, silver fire weaving in steady streams through her aura, reinforcing the threads that bound the pack toget
