Kael POV

The chamber smelled of smoke, though no flame burned yet. Obsidian veins pulsed faintly in the walls, drinking the scar-light that poured from me.

The circle etched into the stone floor was older than Iron Howl itself fire runes knotted with wolf-blood sigils. My ancestors had carved it, binding their marrow to fire so no bone-throne could rise.

Now it is waiting for me. For us.

Ardyn stood in the doorway, pale, her cloak ash-stained, her hands pressed to her womb. The unborn ...