Smoke still hung over Crescent Vale like a ghost that refused to leave.
The air was thick with ash and quiet mourning. The land that had once glowed silver beneath three moons was now a ruin of charred earth and broken walls. The blast that sealed the Door had torn through everything. Trees split down the middle, stone reduced to dust, the once-sacred ground trembling with leftover power.
Days had passed since the explosion, but time felt strange now. The sun rose pale and uncertain, and the nights carried a cold blue shimmer no one could explain.
The pack rebuilt what they could. Scattered groups worked through debris, clearing beams, digging through ashes for anything that could be saved. No one spoke much. The silence was heavier than grief. The weight of what they’d seen, what they’
