Dawn broke over Silvermoor with the colour of drying blood. The eastern solar tower still bore the scars of the night's siege; cracked doors hanging from bent hinges, bloodstains darkening the marble steps, the faint scent of wolfsbane and silver lingering in the air.
Inside, Seren slept at last on a pallet of furs and silk brought up from the royal chambers. Her new wolf traits had settled: sleek dark fur along her shoulders and forearms that gleamed like polished obsidian, golden-flecked eyes that opened occasionally with quiet awareness, and claws that retracted with conscious thought. The ancient ritual had worked. She became a wolf in truth, bonded deeper than ever, her body humming with a strength that both awed and exhausted her.
The triplets stood vigil until the healer, Elora declared her stable. Only then did they descend into the palace proper, their bodies still marked by silver cuts and exhaustion, their golden eyes burning with unspent fury.
