The wind carried whispers that didn’t belong to this world.

They followed Bella through the forest, soft as a heartbeat, insistent as memory.

The Moonshadow wolves moved in silence. The trees around them grew taller, older—their bark silvered by moonlight, their roots coiled like the veins of the earth. Ahead, Alfred led the pack, his steps sure but heavy with a leader’s burden. Behind him, warriors and scouts moved in formation, their eyes sharp, their movements careful.

And in the ...