Doran’s ashes still smoldered on the stone. The scent of burnt marrow clung to the hall, acrid and heavy. Wolves bowed, but not all bent willingly. I could feel in their silence, the weight of their thoughts.

A martyr had been made.

No words were spoken as I ascended the throne once more. My flames guttered low, the blood across my chest drying like a crown of wounds.

Kael tried to stand beside me, but his legs gave way. He collapsed to one knee, scar burning bright enough to cast light of ...