The courtyard still stank of smoke and charred stone. Wolves knelt or paced in broken clusters, the air heavy with whispers. The prophecy still rang in their ears, my child’s voice, raw and terrible.

Some bowed to me with reverence. Others glared, eyes sharp with fear. A few had already fled to Veyra’s side.

But none of that mattered.

Because Kael’s blood was still on my hands.

He lay half-conscious, chest heaving, the scar pulsing faintly now, no longer bursting open but glowing like ...