Amethyst
The shift from the sacred, terrifying intensity of the altar to the smoke-filled air of the celebration grounds was jarring. We were no longer standing on a battlefield of ancient energy; we were standing in front of the BBQ pits. The scent of cedar smoke, charred brisket, and sweet hickory sauce wafted through the night air, trying—and failing—to mask the heavy, metallic tang of the Shadow that still clung to the Pavilion stones nearby.
The Scene of Unity
Despite the violence that had hummed beneath our feet only an hour ago, the pack grounds were breathtaking. Jackson’s planners had outdone themselves. Thousands of fairy lights were strung between the ancient oaks, casting a soft, amber glow over the long wooden tables. The decorations were a deliberate statement of our new r
