Chapter 171

• Lusia
• The Silvermoon battlefield was a crucible of despair, its churned earth a bloody quagmire, laden with shattered blades and broken bodies, while the dawn’s crimson light cast a gory veil over the slaughter. My white wolf form trembled, my fur matted with blood and mud, my muscles screaming from the pain of war, my hazel eyes burning with tears.
• The metallic luster of blood mingling with the hissing sound of liquid silver, the wild musk of clashing Lycans and werewolves, thickened the air. The memories of my brother Finn lying lifeless, his brown wolf form sprawled out, Dane's claws dripping with his blood, rent my heart into shreds—a wound deeper than any blade.