Kieran's POV
The forest was quiet, except for the hum of crickets and the occasional whisper of wind through the trees. I sat on the thick trunk of a fallen oak, its bark rough beneath my palms, the faint scent of moss and damp earth filling my lungs. The moon hung high above, pale and ghostly, its reflection trembling on the nearby stream. Before me, spread across the forest floor, was the large map of the Werewolf Kingdom, creased, smudged, and illuminated by the flicker of my campfire.
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, eyes scanning the markings with rapt attention. Every road, every bend, every small symbol meant something. My mother's last words echoed in my head "Your father, Kieran… he's still alive. I saw him, in some kind of dark cave with a waterfall…"
A cave beneath a waterfall.
