By dawn, the sky bleeds gray over the Blood Moon territory.
The air itself feels heavier, weighted with the knowledge that war is no longer a rumor—it’s a certainty marching toward us with every passing hour.
In the courtyard below, warriors assemble in neat lines. Armor gleams. Voices murmur. Wolves shift and test their strength. The smell of sharpened steel and fear lingers in the cold morning air.
I stand on the balcony, cloak wrapped tight around my shoulders, watching them.
They’re preparing to die for a queen they never asked for.
A queen who never wanted a crown.
Zane steps beside me, his warm presence easing the ice in my veins, if only a fraction. His golden eyes survey the warriors with a hard, calculating gaze.
“They’ll follow you,” I whisper. “Even if they’re afraid.”
“
