Stories

The wolves gathered under the rising moon, their voices weaving into a chorus that raised the hairs on Mira’s arms. […]

By morning, the village no longer felt like hers. Wolves moved through the square, fixing barricades, sharpening weapons, patrolling as

The village was hushed, every hut cloaked in the silence of uneasy sleep. Mira sat outside her door, staring at

The village slept uneasily under the watch of wolves, but Mira lay wide awake, her wrist burning with the bond’s

The wolves had taken over by nightfall. Their presence was everywhere—guarding the village’s borders, pacing between smoldering ruins, carrying water

By dawn, the village no longer smelled of smoke but of fear. Mira stood among the ashes, her wrist still

Mira didn’t sleep that night. She sat on the edge of her bed, watching the moon creep higher through the

The village smoldered in silence once the rogues fled, their howls fading into the forest. Mira stood amid the wreckage,

The night split open with howls. Mira jolted awake to the sound of shattering wood, her heart hammering as screams