By the time we burst back into the clearing near the pack border, my lungs were heaving, and my legs were burning—but it wasn’t from the run.
It was from the mark on my body.
The one I hadn’t even realized had been carved into me until a few days ago.
It wasn’t visible. Not on the surface, at least. But I could feel it burning beneath my skin, thrumming like it had a heartbeat of its own. Like it had been lying dormant for years and now, all at once, it was awake—and it was angry at me or at something else.
The Prophetess reached out, grabbing my wrist. Her grip was iron-clad, but not cruel. It was urgent. Like she knew I was seconds away from collapsing.
“What’s happening to me?” I gasped.
“The seal is weakening,” she said, her voice sounding so strained. “The moment you saw the Hol
