Syria’s POV
I rushed straight to my room and slammed the door shut behind me, locking it from the inside.
Later that night, curled up in the corner of my dimly lit room, I reached for the back of my neck where the gland was. It was bound by a silver chain, cold and tight. I ran my fingers slowly across it.
The moonlight poured gently through the window, casting a soft glow on the floor. I caught sight of the wolf-head totem, an old symbol embedded that had been sent to me earlier that day. It shimmered in the light, an eerie silver reflection dancing across the room.
It was from him.
Kaelion.
My fingertips brushed the icy ornament, and I let out a quiet laugh. It was bitter, amused, and almost sinister. My teeth sank into the flesh of my own palm, as if grounding myself in the pai
