The night was a tapestry of indigo and silver, the stars muted by the heavy clouds that shrouded the moon. Perched on the brink of the cliff, I saw a valley devastated by years of strife—a living monument to the hardships of our pack and our acrimonies. As if it understood that tonight my destiny would be sealed, the Crescent Mark on my forearm throbbed with a sharp, relentless glow. The blood of my ancestors hammered through my veins, pushing me to get up, fight, lead.
I had carried the weight of the Crescent Bloodline; a legacy shaped in sacrifice and rich in betrayal for years. I had seen our pack disintegrate, our cohesiveness tarnished by both within and outside betrayal. And now, as the final enemy gathered at our borders and the whispers of the past converged with the uncertainty of the future, I knew that everything hinged on the choice I would make tonight.
