Page 220 of Moonlit Fate

“Things will be different now,” I murmured.

“Change is the law of life,” he replied. “We’re the enforcers.”

I nodded, feeling the truth in his words. The mantle of leadership wasn’t just about power; it was about guiding our pack to a future where alarm didn’t rule us. It was about making hard choices, standing firm against opposition, and maybe, just maybe, finding a balance between strength and compassion.

“Let’s make them proud,” I said, squeezing his hand.

“Let’s make ourselves proud,” he corrected.

Atticus and I walked the edge where our territories merged, our steps synchronized. His hand brushed mine, a touch that said everything without a word. Love. Unity. A silent pact to protect this land we ruled.

“Remember how these trees looked not long ago?” I asked, glancing up at the canopy of leaves. So different from the devastation I’d caused that had left the trees bare and broken.

“Couldn’t forget if I tried,” he replied. “Look at them now.”

“Thriving,” I said, smiling. The forest had transformed around us, evidence of nature’s resilience and our efforts to restore balance.

“Like they were never touched by war,” Atticus added. There was pride in his tone, mixed with a hint of awe for the rapid healing.

“Exactly,” I agreed, pressing my feet firmly against the ground under my boots. It was solid, full of life. The trees stood tall, their trunks wide and strong. No more scars from past battles. No more echoes of pain in the bark.

“Seems like the world is breathing easy again,” Atticus observed, stopping for a moment to look around. “Peace is a good look on it.” His ice-blue eyes met mine, and we shared a knowing look before continuing our walk.

“Peace suits you too,” I teased lightly, bumping his shoulder with mine.

His laughter, rare and deep, filled the space under the trees. “Maybe it does at that. Maybe it does.”

“Listen to that,” I said, pausing to tilt my head. The air vibrated with the life around us, the chirping of birds perched in the newborn greenery, the scurrying of forest critters among the underbrush.

Atticus nodded, his ice-blue eyes scanning the branches above us. “It’s a whole new song. One we helped write.”

“Hard to believe this was once silent,” I murmured.

“Let’s keep it alive,” he replied, extending his hand toward me.

I placed my palm against his, feeling the familiar jolt of our combined energies. We walked on, our strides matching, our focus sharp as we poured our magic into the land.

“Remember the pattern,” Atticus instructed. Our hands moved in unison, drawing invisible lines across the ground. Threads of our power wove, stitching a protective veil over our territory.

“I could do it blindfolded,” I shot back.

He smirked. “I don’t doubt it.”

The hum of magic grew, a soft buzz that only we could hear. It wrapped around us, an unseen force pushing gently against my skin.

“Think it’ll hold?” I asked, glancing at Atticus.

“Against anything that dares to try us,” he answered fiercely. “This shield is more than magic. It’s our essence.”

I couldn’t help but smile. Peace, at last. We’d make sure it lasted.

Atticus halted abruptly. He stood still, eyes closed, a frown creasing his brow as if listening to a faint whisper only he could hear. I watched him, silent, knowing better than to interrupt when he connected to the land this way.

“Feel it?” he said at last.

“Feel what?”

“The heart,” he replied without opening his eyes.

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