The cursed object now sat inside a sealed box, locked away in Mira’s protection warded with layers of runes, salt, and moon-blessed herbs. But even so, its energy could still be felt—like a heartbeat of hate thudding beneath the floorboards.
Ella stood at the center of the pack’s meeting hall, her silver hair catching the torchlight as warriors, elders, and scouts gathered around. Her aura was calm—but her eyes burned.
Damian stood beside her, his expression hard, his posture sharp with fury held in check.
“This isn’t just a trick,” Ella said, her voice clear. “It’s a declaration. Someone buried dark magic at our border—meant to poison our land, break our minds, and turn us against each other.”
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
“Who would do this?” someone asked, fear lacing their voic
