The evening returned quietly after the chaos of the council meeting, and the estate seemed strangely peaceful beneath the deepening violet sky where the last threads of sunlight faded slowly behind the dark line of forest that stretched endlessly beyond the pack's territory like a sea of shadows whispering old secrets.
Elara walked alone along the stone garden path while the cool air brushed softly against her skin, and the lanterns placed between the low hedges cast warm amber light that flickered across the gravel beneath her steps like small constellations guiding her forward through thoughts that refused to settle.
Her mind replayed the day.
Voices in the council chamber.
Raised hands.
Old wolves snarling like wounded kings losing their crowns.
"Damn it," she murmured quietly to herself.
The word escaped with tired frustration.
It had never been her intention to change the structure of the pack.
She had simply spoken honestly.
