MasukThey would, when it felt right.When Cassian had settled more fully into his new role. The pack was adjusting to so much change already; introducing their new Luna could wait until things were more stable.Despite the hardships of the past several months, Cassian looked… lighter.The weight of leade
Third Person POV — EpilogueThe mountains were green again.Spring had taken Moonstone and Silver Fang in hand and refused to let go, draping the valleys in wildflowers and fresh growth, softening scars that would never fully disappear but no longer dominated the land. The borders were quiet now—not
It felt nothing like triumph.It felt like grief given form.When it was finally done—when the crowds dispersed and the formalities ended—Cassian escaped the packhouse.Ellie found him later, standing at the edge of the upper courtyard.Moonstone spread out before them, wild and untamed and achingly
Third Person POVMoonstone mourned for three days.Not because tradition demanded it—though it did—but because no one could bear to stop.The first day was silence. Bells tolled at dawn and dusk, their low, resonant notes carrying through the mountains and into the valleys beyond.The packhouse door
His hands fisted in the fabric at her back as if letting go might mean losing her too. His grief poured out unchecked—rage, sorrow, disbelief tangled together in harsh, broken breaths.Claire turned away quietly, already moving toward the next wounded body.She didn’t look back.Ellie POVThey took
Third Person POVThe silence came slowly.Not all at once—not as a sudden absence of sound—but in layers, like the world cautiously testing whether it was finally safe to breathe again.Steel stopped ringing. Orders ceased. The distant clash at the border faded into memory as horns signaled retreat







