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Chapter One hundred and twelve

The air hung heavy with the scent of victory and the lingering tang of blood. The battlefield, once a scene of brutal carnage, now lay silent, the moon a crimson orb casting an eerie glow upon the ravaged landscape.

The Blood Moon Pack, once a symbol of fear and tyranny under Mateo’s rule, was finally free. And at its heart stood Draven, his silver hair gleaming under the blood moon”s light, his eyes burning with an intensity that spoke of the battles waged and won.

A roar erupted from the assembled pack, a symphony of gratitude and relief. They had fought alongside him, their hearts echoing his own defiance against Mateo’s cruelty. Now, their hero stood victorious, a beacon of hope in the midst of the devastation.

“Draven! Draven!“ the chants rose, a tide of voices echoing through the valley. The pack surged forward, their faces a mix of elation and awe. They reached out, their hands trembling, eager to touch the man who had brought them back from the brink.

Draven, his gaze sweepin
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