The sacred grove felt alive under the dimming eclipse, the moon now a bruised crescent hanging low between the twisted branches. Shadows stretched long across the mossy ground, and the air hummed with the pack's restless energy, like a storm about to break. I stood at the center altar, the cool stone pressing against my bare back, my skin prickling from the chill and the weight of all those eyes on me. The warriors encircled us, their breaths heavy, muscles tense under the flickering ...