The sky was clear.

The moon, still heavy and silver, watched over the battlefield where an old world had ended.

Lyla stood in the center of it, surrounded by wolves who had once been enemies.

Now, they were something else.

Not rivals.

Not fractured packs, separated by old blood feuds.

Something new.

The Forsaken stood tall.

The wolves of Silverwood waited.

Because for the first time in centuries there was no council.

No Elders.

No rule but hers.

The weight of it pressed ...