For the first time in what felt like an eternity, peace settled over the Blackmoon Pack. The air, once thick with tension and the scent of war, now carried the warmth of celebration.
Under the vast night sky, the pack gathered in the heart of the territory, their voices ringing out in song and laughter. Bonfires crackled, casting golden embers into the wind. Wolves—both in human and beast form—danced around the flames, reveling in the long-awaited truce.
True to his word, Darius had withdrawn his forces. After seeing how powerful Lyra had become, he promised to stop for a while.
No more battles. No more bloodshed.
For now.
But even in peace, shadows lurked.
Kael stood at the edge of the gathering, watching the flames flicker in Lyra's silver eyes.
She was radiant.
