"Luna," the word echoed in the air like a gentle whisper as I descended the grand staircase of the packhouse. Each step I took carried a profound weight, a tangible reminder of the significance that title held. It felt as if the very essence of the word was slowly woven itself into the fabric of my being, marking a new chapter in my life. Yet a word that still felt foreign in my ear, even after all this time.
The wolves that lined my path exuded a mixture of reverence and anticipation, their eyes shimmering with a blend of admiration and curiosity. Their presence, like a silent chorus, whispered tales of loyalty and respect. It was a humbling sight, and I felt a surge of gratitude for the privilege bestowed upon me.