Two days after the gate closed, the skies over Moon Pack territory remained cloudless, yet the air carried weight like the world was holding its breath.
There was no celebration.
No drums or howls of victory.
Only silence. And shadows.
I stood on the balcony outside the Luna's chambers, overlooking the great stone courtyard below. Soldiers rotated shifts. Scouts returned at dusk with nothing to report no new threats, no sightings of rogue magic.
And yet, I felt watched.
Not by an enemy.
By fate.
Behind me, Lucas stirred in bed. He'd healed faster than I thought possible, thanks to the blood rites passed down through his father's line. But he moved slower now. Not from pain. From thought.
He wasn't the same man who had entered the tower.
Neither was I.
And neither was Auren.
