The day of Marcus's funeral dawned clear and cold, the autumn air crisp with frost that glittered like diamonds in the early light. Werewolves from all territories gathered to pay respects to the fallen Alpha, creating a rare display of unity among normally territorial packs.
The ceremonial grounds had been prepared according to ancient tradition—silver torches marking the sacred circle, the burial platform adorned with symbols of pack, family, and the Moon Goddess herself. Pack members worked through the night to ensure every detail honored their beloved Alpha.
I smoothed my ceremonial Luna robes, the midnight blue fabric embroidered with silver phases of the moon—a stark contrast to Giana's deliberately subdued gray dress. The silver crescent on my neck seemed to glow more brightly tod
