I dreamt of snow—endless, blinding white stretching into a horizon without end.
Silence pressed against my ears, soft and suffocating, as though the world itself held its breath.
There, upon a rise of frost-kissed stone, stood a tall man bathed in moonlight.
His raven hair stirred beneath the wind, drifting like ink across the pale glow.
His face—ethereal, unearthly—seemed to shift with the drifting snow, as though he were carved from the night itself.
Then I saw it.
A great white wolf emerged from the veil of snow, its massive form gliding toward him with soundless grace.
Moonlight clung to its fur like frost. Its eyes gleamed like jewels.
"Valtheris…"
====
{IRIS}
The days leading up to the reopening of the Covens of Midnight passed in a blur—a relentless cycle of exhaustion and bruises.
