I step out of the passage and the night hits me like a wall. Smoke. Blood. Heat. The battlefield stretches wide before the keep torches guttering, earth torn up by claws and boots, bodies already littering the ground. Wolves clash in every direction, shapes blurring as they shift mid-fight, metal ringing, bones snapping. The air hums with fear and fury so thick it tastes like iron. And then something changes. No one announces me. No voice cries my name. But a few heads turn. Not all at once. Not dramatically. It’s subtler than that like a pressure drop. Like the world inhaling. I feel it ripple outward from my chest. Luna. The word doesn’t sound in my head, but it settles into my bones all the same. I spot Amelia first. She’s knee deep into the chaos, hair loose, face streaked with blood that isn’t all hers. She fights like she always has—fast, precise, brutal when she needs to be. She breaks a wolf’s arm with a twist and a stomp, then shoves him aside and moves on without
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