The courtyard groaned under the prophecy’s weight.

Every stone cracked, bleeding black fire and bone splinters. Wolves writhed in the ash, some turning to dust, some fusing into bone statues mid-howl.

Iron Howl itself bent like a throat around us, towers leaning, chains screaming.

And at the center me, Kael, the Huntress.

Three flames. Three knives.

Only one crown.

My belly burned. Not with life but with fire, with voice, with command.

The cry rose until it shattered my jaw into sound not ...