(Siena’s POV)
The ancient Stone Circle rises from the earth like the spine of some great beast, massive granite monoliths standing sentinel against the twilight sky.
Firelight flickers across their weathered surfaces, casting long shadows that seem to dance with purpose across the packed dirt of the ceremonial ground.
Overhead, a full moon pushes through gathering storm clouds, its silver light occasionally breaking through to bathe the arena in ghostly radiance.
The mountainous landscape surrounding us forms a natural amphitheater, with pack members filling every available space on the tiered slopes. Their breath creates a fine mist in the cooling night air, giving the entire gathering an ethereal quality—half-solid, half-spirit.
The music begins, low and haunting,
