The queen's sanctum pulsed with blood-red light.
Above, ancestral wolf spirits twisted and snarled, bound by ritual and rage. Below, Adele stood steady—alone, cloaked in smoke and defiance.
“You dare challenge me here?" the queen hissed. Her hands were blood-soaked, her eyes wild. “This throne—this power—is mine!"
Adele's voice was calm. “No. It never was. You stole it with chains and fear."
Behind a shattered column, Rowan peeked from his hiding spot. Small hands gripped cracked stone. His wide eyes found his mother.
“Mama?" he whispered.
The queen turned, startled. “What is that whelp doing here?"
Adele's heart froze. “Don't touch him."
The queen laughed. “Then silence your song, or he dies first."
Adele raised her arms again and sang—not in words, but in Silverfang tones passed
