Chapter 8: Whispers of the Moon

At night it blew on the walls.

Aria opened her eyes and the silence of the room enveloped her like a second skin - heavy, obedient. Each breath seemed older than his body, as if it had come from the earth. Sarah had leaned in the furthest corner, her shallow breath rising and falling beneath a blanket that seemed older than time. The dust clung to its threads like secrets, like stories that no longer had mouths.

But something outside called.

Not with sound.

With presence.

Aria sat up slowly. Her feet slipped on the ground, and the cold bit the soles of his feet. The wooden door sighed as it opened, as if holding her breath with it. The darkness wasn’t empty—it was watching.

The silver wolf moved slowly and carefully between the trees, as if it was somewhere important. Although the earth remained silent, he palpitated with consciousness. Every leaf held eyes. Every branch remembered.

Aria stepped into the open air. Her hand instinctively found her stomach.

It was still there—that soft,