The dawn rose heavy with silence. Ravenclaw manor usually woke with the sounds of clashing swords and sparring voices, but today the courtyard was hushed, as if the pack itself held its breath. The fires from last night had been extinguished, yet their smoke still lingered in the air, a reminder of how close death had pressed against their gates.
Evelyn moved through the halls with steady steps, her cloak brushing the stones, her face calm though her heart remained restless. She had barely slept. Fji's mark haunted her mind, its twisted lines burned into the earth like a prophecy of ruin.
As she reached the council chamber, she found the elders already gathered, their voices sharp with accusation.
"You see the truth now," Elder Thorne barked, his wrinkled hand slamming the table. "The Alpha is weak. The Luna parades as a warrior, but still we bleed. Our enemies laugh at us."
