The Luna’s Revenge
“Still pretending he’s king when he’s nothing but a caged wolf now. No Moon,
no crown, no pack.”
Theron said nothing. Silence was its own blade, and he let it cut.
The path twisted downward, roots tangling like black veins beneath their boots, until at last the river came into view.
The River of Fernwood. It stretched wide and dark, its waters moving sluggishly under the moonlight. Mist curled above
its surface, whispering with voices that seemed almost human, low, mournful, endless. The sound clawed at the mind,
as though the river itself remembered every soul it had swallowed.