The dream doesn’t start like the others.
There’s no silver field, no whispering wolves, no familiar moon calling my name.
Just silence.
And then…snow.
It falls slow and thick, blanketing the world in white. Crescent Ridge glows faintly beneath it, our territory beautiful and deadly in equal measure. But the peace doesn’t last.
A sound cuts through the air…low, broken howls echoing from the forest. They’re my brothers’. I know their voices anywhere.
I turn, searching the treeline, but what I see instead makes my blood run cold.
Bodies. Dozens of them. Wolves torn apart. Snow stained red. The packhouse burning in the distance, flames reaching for the moon like claws.
Kael stands in front of it, chest heaving, blood dripping from his claws. Soren and Ryn beside him, howling in fury an
