The False Luna Has My Wolf
From beneath his guard’s grip, Marek laughed—a bitter, broken sound.
“That is how they do it,” the rogue murmured. “Burn the page, then blame the ash.”
Corvin snapped that rogues had no voice in council proceedings.
Mira turned to face the elder, her posture steady despite the trembling in her hands.
“Then let the page speak.”
Galen returned bearing a moon-glass case.
Inside lay a single page, blackened at the edges and fragile as dried bone. The room shifted when the pack saw it—not because they believed yet, but because the damage looked real.