The altar stood before us in the stone chamber, its surface gleaming under the torchlight. Alpha Nolan looked at me expectantly, pride etched across his weathered features. Ronan stood beside him, his dark eyes studying my reaction.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Alpha Nolan gestured toward the ornate structure. "It's been in our pack for generations."
I nodded politely, but couldn't help the disappointment settling in my chest. Despite its elaborate design and convincing age, the altar before me was nothing but a masterful fake—a hollow shell devoid of true power. As a Luna, I had studied extensively about the sacred altars, and this... this was merely a shadow of what should be.
"The inscriptions date back nearly five centuries," Ronan explained, his finger tracing the intricate symbols carved into the base. His eyes briefly met mine, and I could read the silent plea in them—he suspected what I knew and wanted my help deciphering the truth.
