Nyx
Peace feels like someone else’s dream. The forest no longer hums with the scent of blood or smoke. The drones that once scanned for rogue packs now trace the curved edges of new trade routes. Silver bodies gliding silently through the fog.
The border lights pulse a soft blue, signaling cooperation instead of warning. Warriors still train in the clearing at dawn, but their bodies move to stay in shape, not for survival. And yet, beneath all of it, I can feel the hum of unrest. Not in the land. In me.
My wolf paces inside my chest, restless, teeth flashing in the dark corners of my mind. She misses the fight, the burn, the certainty that came with battle. Peace, for her, feels too much like silence, and silence, for me, feels too much like loss.
It’s been three weeks since Kaelen
