Morning came gray and silent, the air thick with the scent of burnt pine and damp earth. The battlefield beyond Ravenclaw's walls still smoked, blackened by the night's fire. Evelyn stood on the balcony of the Alpha's hall, her cloak stirring in the cold wind. The victory felt hollow. Every gust carried whispers of what they had lost.
She could still see the faces of the fallen — the young warriors who had followed her into battle with unwavering trust. Some had smiled before dying, as if certain their sacrifice would mean something. She had promised herself it would.
Behind her, the council chamber buzzed with anger and fear. The elders had gathered early, their pride already sharpening into accusation.
When she stepped inside, the noise fell into a heavy silence.
Elder Harrow was the first to speak. "You acted without the council's consent, Luna. You exposed warriors who were never meant to exist. You risked the entire pack for your pride."
