Thorn POV
The Blood Moon crept above the horizon like an omen, it was red, hungry, and ancient. Not a night of celebration, but of reckoning. The sky pulsed crimson, as though the heavens themselves were bleeding. I stood in the highest tower of the Council Hall, my hands resting on the cold stone parapet, the weight of centuries pressing on my shoulders. The tower trembled not with wind, but with destiny. The air was thick, every breath laced with a scent not even a wolf nose could fully decipher dread and opportunity.
It was time.
The Alpha had become too much, too powerful, too unstable, too merciful in the wrong places and too brutal in others. The balance that once governed the packs, the unseen equilibrium that held chaos at bay, had tilted. The others had noticed. Some came in whispers, others in silence, but their eyes said everything. Fear. Doubt. Uncertainty.
They needed a push and I gave it to them.
