The morning of the celebration, I sat at the edge of the boys’ bed and watched Rowan line up his boots in slow, careful movements while Oliver adjusted the collar of his shirt, trying to settle the nervous energy that had made him unusually quiet. Sunlight streamed through the windows and reflected in their eyes. Their wolves stayed just beneath the surface, steady and attentive, as if they could sense the weight of the day in the same way I did.
I cleared my throat. "Before we go," I said, brushing Rowan’s hair back from his forehead, "there's something I want you to understand."
They both turned toward me, knees touching and hands still. They weren’t little kids anymore, but they still listened seriously when I spoke like this.
"You come from two lineages that once saw each other as e
