POV: Ashina
Dawn broke cold and clear over Moonlit territory, the kind of perfect autumn morning that felt almost cruel in its beauty. How could the world be so lovely when they'd come to bury their dead?
Ashina stood before her mirror, trying to fasten the clasp of her formal Luna attire, black dress, silver embroidery in the shape of crescent moons, traditional mourning colors. Her hands shook with exhaustion and emotion, making the simple task impossible.
"Let me," Kendrick said softly, appearing behind her. His fingers were steady where hers weren't, securing the clasp with gentle efficiency.
Their eyes met in the mirror. He looked as terrible as she felt—dark circles under his eyes, jaw tight with suppressed grief, the weight of leadership evident in every line of his face.
"Twelve families," he said quietly. "Twelve sets of parents, siblings, mates who lost someone because I led them into battle."
