The return to Silverfang Keep was a jarring transition from the cocoon of the cabin. The silence of the pines was replaced by the clamor of construction, the distant shouts of drill sergeants running new recruits through their paces, and the low, constant hum of a territory being rebuilt. As their jeep passed through the main gates, Lyra felt the weight of a thousand eyes upon them. Warriors stood straighter, citizens bowed their heads, and the air itself thickened with a mix of reverence, curiosity, and the unspoken pressure of expectation.
They were no longer just the victorious Alpha and his Luna. They were the architects of a new era.
Ronan was waiting for them on the steps of the main keep, his posture rigid, a data tablet clutched in his hand. His eyes, however, held a flicker of relief at their return.
