The scent of blood and antiseptic stung my nostrils as I stood over Elara, her chest rising and falling in shallow, painful breaths. The healers had worked their magic to the bone, stitching and mending, but the pallor of death's kiss lingered on her skin-a grim reminder of the fragility of life within our pack.

"Elara," I whispered, my voice a mere thread in the tapestry of hushed voices and soft footfalls that filled the infirmary. My fingers found hers, cold and limp in my grasp, yet I clung ...