Lyra’s POV
The deafening, unified howl of thousands of wolves still echoed deeply in the marrow of my bones long after we descended from the Moonstone Amphitheater.
The transition from the crisp, ancient air of the mountain peak to the stifling, opulent warmth of the Great Hall was entirely jarring.
The space had been transformed for the Marking Feast. Long wooden tables groaned under the weight of roasted boar, spiced root vegetables, and heavy crystal decanters of dark wine, and thousands of candles floated in iron chandeliers suspended from the vaulted ceiling, casting a warm, flickering glow over the nobility and Vanguard warriors who had gathered to celebrate the sealing of the Prime bloodline.
Sitting at the absolute center of the elevated high table, I let the sheer white silk
