Henry's povI woke before dawn again, the grey light of early morning barely silvering the tops of the pines. My muscles ached from yesterday’s patrol, and my jaw was stiff from clenched worry. I swung my legs over the side of the bunk in my tent, every sense already alert to the world outside. There was a tension in the air, like the moment before a storm breaks and I knew we had to act fast.I dressed in my leather jerkin and trousers, fastening my sword belt with deliberate calm. I could hear the soft breathing of the guards on duty, and beyond them, the distant murmur of the camp coming to life. I slipped outside into the courtyard, cold dawn wind chasing the last embers of sleep from my mind.A pair of young scouts huddled by the eastern gate, maps spread between them. They looked up as I approached, eyes wide with dread.“Henry,” one of them said, voice low, “you should know, Sebastian’s been moving faster than we thought.”My heart thudded. I knelt beside them, studying the has
Sebastian’s povI stood atop the battlements of my fortress, the cold wind whipping my obsidian cloak into rippling folds behind me. The sky was a bruised gray, heavy with the promise of storms and of blood. Below me, the vast encampment of my loyal shadow-wolves churned with activity: black-clad soldiers sparring with twisted blades, ritualists chanting quietly over ironbound tomes, and scouts patrolling the perimeter with watchful green eyes. All of it moved with the precision of a single organism bent toward a singular purpose: the fall of the Crimson Moon pack.I turned away from the horizon and descended the narrow stone steps into the heart of my command hall. Torches burned in iron sconces along the walls, casting flickering shadows that danced like restless spirits. At its center stood a long, low table of carved black marble, and around that table an inner circle of his most trusted lieutenants: Captain Mael, Ser Rupos, Witch Draven, and the silent, hooded figure known only a
Alpha Orion's POV I stood on the ridgeline just before dawn, the first light painting the eastern horizon in pale washes of lavender and gold. In my hand, I held a battered leather map, the edges worn thin, the ink smudged from years of use. Below me, the tide of my pack’s warriors stirred in the camp, tents half-rolled, horses shifting in their stalls. Their breaths fogged in the cold air. I inhaled deeply, the scent of pine and frost filling my chest. Today, everything would change.I turned away from the camp and padded quietly down a narrow path that wound through ancient oaks and towering pines. My long cloak trailed on the forest floor, leaves whispering beneath its hem. In each careful footstep, I carried memories of battle and betrayal, but also of hope. I was going to meet old friends and forge quiet alliances, just as I had done decades before when the Crescent Council had threatened to divide us all.As I rounded a moss-covered boulder, I saw two figures waiting in the hal
Leila’s POV I woke before dawn, the torchlight in my chamber was low, flickering orange against the silken curtains, and I paused at the edge of the bed, taking a steadying breath. Sebastian’s footsteps echoed in the corridor beyond my door, he would expect me dressed and ready for morning tea. As always, I would move like a marionette, every gesture scripted: loyal, broken, dependent. Inside, though, my mind was a sharpened blade, honed for the moment I could strike free and stand with my true pack. I would play along with Sebastian’s game, but every fiber of my being was ready for the real one.I padded barefoot along the corridor to Sebastian’s solar. Two of his captains stood guard at the door. Mael and Osanna are both stiff-faced and alert. I bowed deeply, voice soft. “Good morning, my lord.”Sebastian rose from his ebony desk, eyes warm and dangerous. “Good morning, my Luna.” He offered me a silk-lined chair by the window, where morning light painted the carpet in pale gold. He
Liam’s POV I slipped through the underbrush just before moonrise, heart pounding so loudly I was sure Leila would hear it from her hiding place. The forest was quiet, the only sounds the soft whisper of wind through pines and the distant rush of the river. My boots sank into moss and fallen leaves, and I kept low, senses reaching for any sign of movement. Every rustle could be Sebastian’s shadow-wolves or worse, his spies watching the trails.But my mind was on Leila. Since that night in the cave, since I had marked her and the spell that bound her mind to Sebastian had finally cracked, every moment apart had felt like a torment. I had carried her scent in my memories, and felt her wolf’s heartbeat in my own chest. Yet I dared not ask her to stay away from Sebastian’s manse; she had to maintain the illusion of loyalty so no alarm would ring in his halls. He was cunning; if he suspected her bond with me was restored, he would tighten his hold or vanish us both in his cruelty.Tonight
Elijah’s povThe camp quieted to the hush before midnight. Soldiers whispered about their posts; the crackle of watchfires was the only sound. I sat in a small tent, leaning over a table covered in scrolls, records of patrols, last sightings, schedules of watchmen. My shoulders ache from stress. The maps traced every path, every secret entrance. I had a duty to keep our pack safe, to guard Leila’s secret as fiercely as I guarded my own life.One of our scouts, Arin slipped in, eyes bright with urgency. “Lord Elijah,” he hissed. “We saw tents moving across the ridge. Five shapes with torches, but they vanished before we could close in.”My chest tightened. “Could be Sebastian’s shadow-wolves, or spies carrying lanterns. We need to find them.” I rose, brushing my cloak back. “Gather Henry and Liam. We set out now.”Arin hurried off, and I made my way out into the chill night air. I found Henry preparing his bow beside his tent, while Liam stood by the edge of the camp, distant and watch