The days after the coronation felt like something out of a dream. For the first time in years, the packs shared laughter instead of war cries. The training fields echoed with unity, the markets of Crescent Hall were alive with trade between wolves who once would have drawn claws at first sight. It was peace, genuine and fragile.

But peace, Darius knew, never stayed for long.

He stood on the balcony outside his chambers, staring toward the horizon where the mountains cut against the morning ...