The White Wolf Luna
“We choose together. Always.”
The paths glowed brighter, each one leading to a different horizon: one to a city of light, its towers singing with the same song as their hearts; another to a forest of shadow, where the trees whispered secrets older than time; a third to a mountain of stone, its peak crowned with a flame that burned without fuel. And a fourth, fainter, leading to a void where the stars didn’t shine, where the whisper’s echo was loudest.
Rowan’s blade hummed, its silver light catching the glow of the paths. “The void,” he said, his voice steady. “That’s where it’s waiting.”
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