Chapter 58. The Reckoning

The wind came first.

It whispered down from the northern cliffs, threading through the trees like a warning. Selene felt it stir the hair at the nape of her neck, lifting it like a spectral hand. The Hollow Grounds lay ahead, muted under the heavy sky, the forest peeled back to reveal the ancient ceremonial clearing. Lanterns sputtered weakly against the growing dark. Fires guttered low, ringed by stone and neglect.

And the wolves waited.

Selene slowed at the treeline, standing beside Alaric, her heart a low, steady drum inside her ribs. She could feel them before she saw them — the packs massed around the sacred circle, their postures rigid, their scents layered in distrust and something sharper beneath: fear.

Not fear of her.
Not yet.
But fear of what she might become.

Alaric’s presence was a wall of heat at her side. Silent,