Ellie POV
The morning was quiet in a way that felt almost unreal.
Sunlight filtered through the tall windows of the Silver Fang packhouse, pale and gentle, warming the stone floors instead of glaring off them. The wards hummed softly beneath it all, a low vibration I had learned to register without thinking—comforting, steady, alive.
For the first time in days, there were no raised voices in the corridors. No urgent footsteps. No runners bringing news from the borders.
Just peace.
I sat cross-legged on the floor near the hearth, August pressed against my side, Ian sprawled half across my lap. Wooden blocks lay scattered between them, abandoned in favor of tugging at my sleeves and babbling nonsense syllables at each other. Their laughter—high, breathless, unburdened—fil
