The forest feels different at night.
Familiar paths wind beneath her feet, but the air is sharper, heavier—charged with memories she thought she had buried. The smell of moss, the rustle of leaves, even the faint cry of distant wolves pulls at her heart, threatening to unravel the calm she’s fought so hard to maintain.
Her silver wolf prowls within, restless, alert. Every nerve hums with instinct. This is no longer a place of fear. This is a place of reckoning.
The clearing ahead is cloaked in darkness. Shadows stretch across the old territory, silent and watchful. Aria pauses, lifting her head. The scent is faint but unmistakable. Wolves. Her people. Some loyal, some lost to fear. And one—one she cannot ignore.
Her pulse quickens.
Her wolf growls low—not in threat, but recognition.
