The Grove shuddered with sound.

The elders’ chant rose in unison, deep and thrumming, shaking the ancient stones. Silver mist curled around their forms, weaving into the shapes of wolves and moons before dissolving back into the night air. The pool at the center of the clearing rippled, glowing brighter, until its surface looked like molten silver.

Bella stood at the edge, her breath shallow, her heart racing. Every instinct screamed to turn back. But the pull of the Grove was relentless. ...