Semua Bab SILVER IN THE SHADOWS: Bab 31 - Bab 40

Dawn came softly.Golden light filtered through the high windows, dappling the stone floor and furs with warmth. The air in the den was still, the fire burned low, and outside, the forest murmured its quiet rhythms , wind through leaves, the distant stir of pack life beginning anew.But inside, time had slowed.Trixie stirred beneath the heavy blanket of fur and skin, warmth wrapped around her like a second skin not just from the covers, but from Ryker’s arms, still snug around her middle. One of his hands rested at her waist, the other lay over her heart as if to guard it even in sleep. His breath moved gently against her shoulder, even, content.She smiled to herself, not daring to move yet. Her body still ached pleasantly from the night before, marked not just by the bond, but by the way he had held her like something sacred. She turned her head slightly, gaze drifting to the burnished mark on her neck still faintly golden, warm to the touch, as if pulsing with shared life.She was

The midday sun filtered through the canopy overhead, painting the clearing with restless patterns of light and shadow. A circular ring of aged oak trunks formed the council chamber, their hardy limbs wrapped like silent sentinels. At the center, a long stone slab served as table and focal. Trixie stood at its head, sunlight catching the faint glow of her mark at the throat of her wolf‑hide cloak.She inhaled a breath, and the murmurs around the clearing stilled. Warriors leaned forward, muscles coiled; elders exchanged measured glances. Ryker remained just behind her shoulder, still as carved stone.Trixie dipped her chin. “Trisha has approached us. She carries an offer—truce between Ridge and Luna. But it isn’t goodwill. It is necessity. Hollow forces press in from the east. If Ridge falls, our borders will bleed next.”A hush followed her words. Captain Ryn stepped forward, unrolling a weathered map onto the stone surface. With a gloved fingertip he traced a jagged line. “Our scouts

The sixth dawn since the truce broke silver across the Ridge. Frost glistened on pine needles, and breath rose in quiet clouds from the nostrils of riders moving in pairs-Ridge and Luna, russet and silver side by side down narrow trails between ancient trees. Their bannered cloaks hung low, dulled by mud and wear, but their pace was steady. The forest watched in hush.Trisha rode near the center of the patrol, her expression unreadable, eyes scanning tree line and sky alike. Serin kept to her right, ever alert. On her left was Kael, Luna’s envoy captain—slight and sharp, with steel-bound braids and a gaze that missed nothing.This was the fourth joint patrol to pass without incident. Their steps had become practiced. Ridge scouts no longer flinched at Luna’s questions. Luna’s wolves no longer marked Ridge movements with skepticism. A kind of silence had settled not one of peace, but of familiarity. Of rhythm.At the base of a ridge slope, they paused near a shared cache: root cellar du

The first silver light of morning poured through the high, arched windows of Luna’s inner keep, slicing into the war chamber in long, ethereal beams. Dust motes drifted through that pale glow, drifting above cold stone walls etched with centuries of scars. The lingering scent of embers still clung to the air, mingled with the sharp tang of iron—a reminder that the forge and the battlefield were never far apart. Soldiers clustered in dim pools of light, their voices hoarse with fatigue, armor clinking softly as they shifted. Boots scraped against ancient tiles, echoing like whispered warnings.Trixie entered without announcement. Her cloak, dark as ravens’ wings, hung loosely over one shoulder; her hair was half‑tied, tendrils escaping to frame her face. She moved like a blade in shadow: precise, purposeful, and oddly softened around the edges. She looked every inch the commander once more, yet there was a gentler stillness at her lips and a quiet steel behind her eyes. She walked to t

The Hollow came at dusk.The pack held the ridge line, shields braced in a jagged arc against the downhill charge. Steel rang sharp in the thinning light, sparks scattering like fireflies crushed under boot.Trixie was there at the front, as always. Armor cinched, sword at hand , her voice cutting through the chaos with the steadiness her warriors clung to.But Ryker, fighting a pace to her left, noticed what others could not.Her blade still struck true, but slower. Her parries came half a beat behind. Where once she had darted like a hawk between gaps in the Hollow’s swarm, tonight her movements were heavier, each step more deliberate.The Hollow pressed. One surged high, jagged claws aimed for her throat. Trixie caught the strike but barely. The counter that should have been swift and lethal faltered, her shoulder dipping as though the weight of the world tugged her bones.Ryker moved before thought. His axe split the Hollow’s skull with a crack that echoed, ichor spattering across