Chapter 105 The Flame That Hates

• It began with a scream. Not in the flesh. Not in the wind. But in the flame itself. At first, it was just one brazier — a ceremonial one, inside the Moonclaw memorial chamber. A single tongue of fire flared black, then hissed. The color returned to normal in seconds.
• No one noticed. Until it happened again. And again. Across cities. Across packs. Flames once used for remembrance began to shrink away from touch.
• Some bit. Some whispered.