Dawn crept reluctantly over Blackwood.
The sky remained bruised with storm clouds, heavy and ominous, as if the heavens themselves feared what was coming. The palace stood battered but unbroken, its walls scorched, its towers cracked, yet still defiantly upright.
Rowan had not slept.
He stood in the training arena long before sunrise, bare-chested, sweat streaking down his back as he drove his fists mercilessly into a thick ironwood post. Each strike echoed like thunder across the empty grounds.
Pain flared.
He welcomed it.
It was the only thing that reminded him he was still alive.
Once, this training ring had bowed to his presence. Warriors had trembled. Alphas had lowered their eyes. His dominance had rolled across the arena like an unstoppable tide.
Now
Nothing.
Only the dull
