The howl did not travel across distance.

It erased the concept of distance.

One moment the original forest was a memory and a target. The next it was present—mud and blood-smell and the exact weight of a dying Luna’s last refusal pressing against every living syllable of the bloodline name. The eight-syllable account slammed into that ancient ground like a spear thrown into a closed fist. For a single heartbeat the name held. Then the original quiet answered with the full, undiluted force of a grievance older than every second chance that had ever been granted.

The impact threw Zelda to her knees.

The three children cried out in unison...