Amara’s POV
The feast was over, but the peals of laughter and jingling of cups hung about, like ghosts of mirth.
I hovered by the edge of the clearing, the heat of the bonfire on my flesh and the chill in my breast. The fire leapt and threw long shadows on the faces of my pack—my friends. They were happy. Celebrating that I was back, that I had survived, that I’d won—I suppose.
But they didn’t know what the truth was.
They hadn’t witnessed what I’d witnessed.
They hadn’t heard the voice that still spoke in the recess of my soul now.
“Power is a promise. One you’ve already accepted.”
I clenched my teeth, ignoring the echo of the Devourer's smooth hiss. No. I had won. I had sealed it away. The trial was over.
Wasn’t it?
Through the flames Kael's eyes found mine. He smiled—that broad
