"Betrayal burns hotter than any blade."

The air in the Academy's smaller training hall hung thick as wool, heavy with the scent of sweat, fear, and something else—the bitter tang of broken trust. Torches flickered in their iron brackets along the stone walls, casting dancing shadows that seemed to writhe with malicious life. The chamber itself was older than the main arena, its arched ceiling stained black with centuries of smoke from countless flames.

My wolf paced restlessly inside me, ...