Freya‘s pov.

The voices came first.

At first they were faint, muffled and alien, like whispers drifting through water or echoes bouncing inside a cavern. They slid under my skin, brushing along my spine, unfamiliar yet tugging at something deep within me. With every heartbeat they grew clearer—sharper, stronger—until they were no longer strangers. They were names. They were anchors.

Dorian. Tiberius.

My mates. My heart.

A tremor tore through my chest. ...