Chapter Sixty–nine:
The moon hung like a jagged shard of bone in the midnight sky, casting long, skeletal shadows across the hidden grotto. Below, the spring remained deceptively still, a dark mirror reflecting the silhouettes of the gathered werewolves. As the clock struck twelve, the atmosphere shifted. The air grew heavy with the scent of ozone and ancient earth, and the water began to churn. Slowly, a luminous, pulsating red began to bleed from the depths of the basin, swirling and thickening until the entire pool glowed with the intensity of a fresh wound.
"It's beautiful," Amelia whispered, her eyes wide as the crimson light danced across her face.
