The covenant between tribes had grown stronger with each passing day. The wolves and dragons worked side by side, while Prava, Allara, and Rafael guided them with newfound wisdom. Yet, peace was fragile.
On the edge of the horizon, beyond the forests they now called home, strange lights began to flicker. A crimson glow lingered in the night sky, unnatural and foreboding.
"The horizon is restless," murmured Allara, her staff trembling faintly as if it sensed what she could not yet see.
Rafael narrowed his eyes. "That is not the work of storm or star. Something is moving out there."
Prava felt the same unease. The Key of Hearts, warm at her side, pulsed faintly with warning. She stepped forward, looking at both tribes gathered behind her.
"We must be ready. Unity is not only for celebration—it is for battle against the unknown."
The elders of wolves and dragons exchanged grave looks. None spoke, but the silence itself was an agreement.
Above them, the crimson light spread wider, like wings unfurling across the heavens. A shadow was approaching, one that would test not only their strength but the very trust they had forged.