The forest of the Hollow no longer slept.
Where silence once hung heavy, voices now filled the night — deep, guttural chants, low growls, and the rhythmic clang of steel against stone. Wolves gathered around fire pits, shaping old blades, reforging armor long buried under dust. The scent of molten metal and blood filled the air, thick and sharp.
And at the center of it all — Aria Vex stood before them.
Her leather jacket was torn, her ribs still bound, her skin marked with healing claw scars. But her eyes burned brighter than the flames. She didn’t look like a queen, or a general, or even a legend. She looked like something carved by defiance — rough, scarred, alive.
The old wolves had accepted her blood vow. The young ones followed because she didn’t tell them to kneel.
Now she had t
