From ruin to the Lycan King's Luna
Her scent of soft vanilla and something wild wrapped around me.
“Go on,” I said quietly, my voice low.
“Open it.”
She blinked, lips parted slightly, and reached for the box. Her fingers trembled just enough to make my chest tighten.
Then she took it delicately, like it was sacred.
The room seemed to fall into silence.
Not the kind you escape from, but the kind that crackled with meaning.
She lifted the lid slowly.
A faint gasp slipped from her lips.
Nestled inside, cushioned against black velvet, was a delicate silver bracelet. Thin but strong. Inlaid with tiny obsidian stones, each etched with markings so old only a handful of scholars could still read them.
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