CHAPTER: 94
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NARRATOR'S POV
A WEEK LATER
It was late—midnight. The only sounds that broke the stillness were the rhythmic chirping of crickets and the low croaking of frogs. The Crescent Moon Pack had always dwelled in the high, misty regions of the mountains—remote, ancient, and cloaked in secrets. And tonight, those mountains felt more alive than ever.
The peaks loomed above like ancient sentinels, sharp-edged and unforgiving, their jagged silhouettes tearing through the night sky. They cast long, crooked shadows over the frozen earth below, as if nature itself were bracing for what was to come. The wind howled through the ridges—wild, restless, and cruel. It carried a whisper in its breath—something old, something unnatural, and laced with quiet menace.
