The wind swept low across the land of Arleta, carrying the scent of ash and blood through the towering pines. Moonlight bathed the ruins of the Blue Howl fortress in an eerie glow, where wolves once danced and howled in celebration.

Now, silence reigned.

A silence that followed pain.

War and change.

I stood at the edge of the courtyard, cloaked in a silver shawl Elder Emily had draped over my shoulders. Not because I was cold, but because tradition demanded it. The shawl represented ...