Elder MoonChild's smile is soft, but it doesn't reach her eyes. There's a heaviness in her posture, a slowness to her breath that speaks not just of age, but exhaustion—the kind worn into the soul, not the skin.
"My child," she says quietly, voice almost brittle, "the hybrids have returned."
The room stiffens.
"It seems your sister still hungers for your throne. She sends fire-born beasts to burn border towns, to take pups from their cradles. This is not merely defiance. It's declaration."
A cold weight settles in my gut. "What kind of hybrids?"
The words are out before I can stop them. Not just curious—unnerved. I wasn't trained for this. These creatures aren't in the stories we were raised on.
Elder MoonChild's eyes flicker—recognition, perhaps, or something dangerously close to it—but she lets it pass.
"Wolf and fire fox," she replies, voice low but her eyes never leave my face. "But not like before. These are refined. Directed. Two villages were lost before dawn."
