The storm arrived before sunrise.
Elara felt it long before the first horns echoed through the valley. The deeper current beneath her skin pulsed violently, like the earth itself had begun to breathe faster. Power moved across the territories in waves—sharp, jagged awakenings colliding with old Alpha dominance.
Something had changed.
Not gradually.
Violently.
She stood at the edge of the ruined fortress wall, watching the sky turn from black to bruised violet. The forest below was alive with movement—wolves shifting between forms, scouts racing through the underbrush, the faint glow of distant fires beginning to dot the horizon.
War had finally erupted.
Draven joined her silently.
For a moment he said nothing, just stood beside her as he always did now—not ahead, not behind.
With her.
"You feel it," he said quietly.
"Yes."
Her voice carried tension she didn't try to hide.
"The awakenings are multiplying."
Draven exhaled slowly.
