AYLA – POV
My boots sank into ash and blood that still simmered from yesterday's battle. The wind carried the copper scent of spilled war and the brittle tang of burned cordwood. I hadn't shifted since dawn—my wolf slept beneath the First Luna's power—and still the air felt electric as though the world itself trembled at the knowledge of my choice.
Below me, the ridge overlooked the valley where Council tents lay silent. Flags drooped in the haze, half burned, half soaked in dew. Fires smoldered along the treeline, guarded by wolves who dared not breathe the sacred night. Kael moved beside me, silent, vigilant as shadows curled through his hair.
Tense doesn't begin to describe it. This was an aftershock: everything felt torn between fear and awe.
I closed my eyes. I tasted the aftermath on my tongue—scent of steel, promise, fear, belonging. Of Kael.
Then the quake came.
A low rumble split the stone beneath us. The earth shivered. My heart cracked.
