The Wolf Who Chose Me
“But it wasn’t. It was about letting the world speak for itself.”
Velan bowed his head, tears streaming as threadlight poured from his chest. “The Pattern… it was never broken. Just unfinished.”
Elen fell to her knees, ink blooming across her arms, forming symbols she didn’t recognize—but somehow understood. Mira let her hand fall from her blade, the grip finally releasing. Orren laid both palms against the earth, whispering thanks into the dirt. The boy, silent for so long, stood radiant, his flame steady and sure.