Our Broken Howls
Tonight would demand that every decision be deliberate, measured, and decisive.
As twilight settled, Ravenwood itself seemed to hold its breath. The howls of wolves rose, not in harmony but in tension, echoing the fractured landscape of loyalties. The council’s eyes were everywhere, yet their perception had limits. That knowledge was a weapon if wielded carefully. Every step, every pause, every breath could tilt the balance. I moved deliberately, sensing the rhythm of the night, the pulse of the territory, and the subtle currents of allegiance.
Bab Populer