Azura's POV
The heavy iron gates of Crescent Moon Pack held open as our battered procession finally staggered through.
The entire pack house erupted into controlled chaos the second we stepped onto the main grounds. Healers swarmed the courtyard, carrying stretchers and clean white bandages as they rushed past us to take charge of the wounded.
Torin was immediately carried off toward the main infirmary wing, his breathing shallow and his face ghostly pale from the massive spell he had cast.
Silas and Axel took charge of Rhydor, half-supporting him under his shoulders as they carefully guided him toward the private medical quarters. Even Nicholas was taken away on a stretcher, his motionless body handled with extreme caution as Isadora walked silently beside him, keeping a watchful eye on his slow, steady breaths.
Every warrior who needed urgent care was given immediate attention.
Everyone except the Dragon King.
