Kieran’s POV

I wake to pain.

Not the clean, sharp kind that tells you where it begins and ends—but the deep, grinding ache that lives in bone and breath and thought. It drags me back to consciousness inch by inch, like my body is arguing with itself about whether waking up is worth it.

The ceiling above me is unfamiliar.

Stone. Carved smooth but old, veined with faint runes meant for healing. The air smells like iron, herbs, and wolf—too many wolves. My jaw tightens ...