Silver’s chest tightened as she looked over the sprawling clearing where her pack had been preparing for weeks. Lanterns swung gently from trees, casting a golden glow over the fields. Long tables were set with silver platters and bowls of bloodfruit, roasted meats, and ceremonial delicacies. The air smelled of smoke, iron, and pine. Excitement and anticipation buzzed like electricity. The Blood Rites Festival was the highlight of the year: a gathering of all werewolves across the Six Lands. Packs she had never heard of, some even from distant territories, would descend on her home, a spectacular convergence of raw power, tradition, and politics. And this year, Silver’s pack was hosting. That should have been her moment to shine. But for Silver, it was another trial. The pack’s eyes were on her, though not with admiration. Rejected, dismissed, whispered about for her “human flaws,” she was assigned the most menial, exhausting chores. Cleaning, fetching, carrying, and keeping hersel
Last Updated : 2026-03-07 Read more