Three nights passed since the Wombfire Rebellion.

Iron Howl still smoldered. The walls breathed smoke where the bone-altars once stood, and every wolf walked softer now, as though the child’s dreams reached beneath their paws.

Kael had not left my side. His fire burned low but constant, his body weak, his eyes shadowed with something that wasn’t fear awe too heavy to name.

Our child slept rarely. When it did, the air shimmered faintly, the stars above the fortress dimming as if bowing to ...