AYLA POV
My boots squelched in soot and bone as we walked through the ruins of the Spire.
I hadn't slept. My wolf hadn't stirred. Veyra held my hand, small fingers wrapped in mine like tethered moonlight. Kael moved ahead of us—silent, watchful. The bond between us was quieter now. Not gone. Not dulled. Just deepened—like a river that had finally found its true bed.
The mountain air scraped at my lungs. The wind carried scents from every direction—fear, hope, old blood. Ash.
The scent of burned lies.
We stepped into the open where the Spire once loomed. Now it was just memory stitched into stone. Wolves were gathering. Not kneeling. Not posturing.
Watching.
Solen stood on the rise above them, staff planted like a bone marker. Her face was shadowed.
She turned to me.
"It's begun," she said.
I nodded, not because I knew what came next. But because I finally accepted that no one else ever had.
Kael broke the silence first.
"We need to send word to the border packs."
