Lyra’s POV
The dawn arrived as a jagged line of bruised violet and cold grey, cutting across the sharp peaks of the Crimson Moon territory. From the high stone balcony of the royal wing, I watched the departure…a sea of black leather, steel plates, and the heavy, rhythmic thud of warhorses that seemed to vibrate through the very foundation of the castle.
At the head of the column sat Fenrir, radiating a Prime aura so suffocatingly heavy it felt like a physical weight against my skin. Even from this height, the magnetic pull of our bond made the mark on my neck throb with a dull, persistent ache.
He didn’t look back. A King has no reason to glance behind him when he has borders to secure and a pack to keep under his thumb.
My eyes, however, weren’t tracked on the King. They were fixed o
