Chapter 16 The Circle Of Stones

The forest consumes us, the night so dark it seems we are wading through ink. My boots sink into the soft earth, every step a muffled thud drowned in the sound of crickets and rustling leaves. Morgan out front, his wide body parting the underbrush, silver eyes flashing in the pale moonlight. Clara’s next to him, holding that sketch like it’s a treasure map, while Elena and Jake are the rock that I need against the noise in my mind. The pack’s smaller tonight — just us five, a tight unit moving fast and silent toward the ritual site. My shadows follow, restless, brushing against roots and branches, as though tasting the air. Since that vision—stones, blood, a pull I can’t shake—they’ve been louder. It’s not just fear anymore; it’s something deeper, a thread tugging at my innermost self, as if the shadows know where we’re headed, even if I don’t. I stretch my fingers, feeling them undulate, and Morgan looks back, his eyes a wordless welfare check. I nod, even with tightness in my chest, shallow breath.