The night was deathly quiet.
A haunting stillness hung over Enigma Castle, its ancient stones swallowing the whispers of the wind. The world outside remained unaware of the storm unraveling within a single room, where despair coiled like a living thing.
Ingrid stood on the balcony, her bare feet numb against the stone. The wind pressed against her, an invisible force urging her back, but she had made her choice. There was no fear, no second thoughts. Only the weight of everything she wasn't—everything she would never be.
A wolfless disgrace. A body that refused to shift. A curse carved into her blood.
Her fingers traced the rope secured around the thick wooden beam, its rough fibers biting into her skin. The knot was tight. No struggle. No second chances. Just silence.
This was mercy. The only choice left.
She stepped forward.
