The Strength of the Crescent 

Though the night was calm, within me a storm raged: a rush of raw strength driven by generations of blood, sacrifice, and unrelenting resolve. The Crescent Mark on my arm shone with a radiance both amazing and horrifying. A continuous reminder of the heritage I held and the weight I had decided to carry, it pulsed in sync with my heartbeat. Now, standing on a rocky ledge overlooking the black valley, I could feel that strength—not just as a source of power, but as a living essence linking me to every wolf who had come before. Written in wounds and victories, in the eternal battle between light and darkness, our heritage was today my evidence that our lineage was indestructible.