The battlefield was silent.

Ash drifted like slow snow through the air, settling over bodies, broken weapons, and the charred earth where hundreds of wolves had fought and fallen. The silver light of the moon stretched across the land, no longer red, but pale and tired, as though even the heavens were mourning.

Selene stood at the center of it all, her gown torn, streaked with blood and soot. Her hands trembled as she looked around the ruins of what had once been the Crescent Plains. The ...