Ava’s POV
The silence between us was broken only by the low thrum beneath the stone platform. The ruins were alive—buzzing with a presence neither holy nor malicious, but ancient. It pressed against my skin like static, like memory, like destiny trying to find its way back into my blood.
Lior stood before me, hands slack at his sides, eyes clouded by the weight of ghosts. His voice, when it came, was not the voice of a warrior—but of a man standing in a graveyard too familiar.
"You were born during the fall," he began, eyes not on me, but somewhere far away. "The night our pack was betrayed... the sky had no stars. Just ash and flame."
He stepped forward slowly, reverently, until he stood beside the glowing runes on the platform. The light pulsed beneath his boots.
"Your mother—Estell
