Lucian's POV.
The road stretches on, a ribbon of dirt and rock winding through forests that smell of sunshine and pine. My boots are coated in dust, my shoulders aching under the weight of my pack, but I don't care. Every mile we put behind us is another chance to bring this war to a final rest — another step toward the world Hope has dared us all to imagine.
It hasn't been easy.
Some packs slammed their doors in our faces. Some hunters spat at the word treaty as if it were poison. Old wounds ran deep, and scars didn’t fade overnight. But then there were the moments that kept us going — the grizzled alpha who’d lost both sons to the fighting but still shook my hand; the hunter captain who stared at Emory for a long, hard minute before nodding and saying, “Alright. Let’s talk.”
Each “y
