The forest was quiet, heavy with the scent of earth and mourning. Under a circle of ancient trees, we laid Damon's father to rest.
The ceremony was somber—both packs standing side by side, united by loss. Even those who once fought bitterly bowed their heads, recognizing the end of an era.
The war's scars ran deep. Wounded bodies and broken spirits needed time to heal.
Damon moved among his people, offering strength and reassurance, his eyes lingering on Nyla with a mixture of pride and relief.
Miracle stepped forward, her voice trembling but clear as she confessed. "I was wrong. My jealousy blinded me, and I let darkness take over. Damon, Nyla, I ask for your forgiveness."
The pack murmured, surprised by her honesty. Damon regarded Miracle silently before nodding. Forgiveness wouldn't come easily, but it was the first step toward peace.
Finally, it was Nyla's moment. The pack embraced her back with open arms, their acceptance washing away the sting of exile. Damon took her hand, his grip firm and warm.
Together, they stood—a symbol of hope, resilience, and a future rebuilt from ashes.
The shadows of betrayal still lingered, but the path ahead gleamed with the promise of healing and love.