The moon hung low and luminous in the sky, its pale light washing over the Silver Sanctuary in gentle ripples. From the high windows of the Moonstone Pack’s heartwood hall, Aria watched that glow spread across the carved runes etched into the marble floor. She had barely slept—haunted by visions and unnerving dreams where Mara’s voice drifted through the corridors, whispering of blood and prophecy.

Her reflection stared back at her in the polished marble—eyes rimmed with silver light, ...