Dawn arrived slowly.
Mist clung to the lower ground near the western boundary, curling through the trees like breath that had not yet decided whether to leave the earth or settle deeper into it.
Aurelia stood at the carved line long before the rest of the pack arrived.
The mark in the stone looked smaller in the pale morning light.
But its meaning had never been heavier.
Behind her, the territory remained quiet. Not asleep—watching. Wolves moved through the trees in cautious silence, gathering at the edges of the clearing without stepping forward yet.
They were waiting.
Not for permission.
For certainty.
Mira approached first.
"You're early," she said.
Aurelia didn't look away from the line.
"So are you."
Mira followed her gaze down to the mark in the ground. The groove carved into the stone looked almost ordinary now, but the memory of the night it had first appeared still clung to it.
"That line changed everything," Mira said quietly.
"No," Aurelia replied.
