MARA
I scramble through the crumbling remains of Ravencrest, my heart hammering in my chest. The scent of blood and smoke hangs thick in the air, choking the life from my lungs. The sounds of chaos—the shrill screams of warriors, the clash of steel against steel, and the guttural growls of wolves—reverberate in my ears.
The night was supposed to be a celebration. My coronation rehearsal had gone so well until the first arrow flew. Now, Ravencrest is a war zone.
I can barely see through the haze of dust and debris. My eyes sting, but I force myself to look. I have to survive this. I can’t die here—not like this, not with so much left undone.
But as I push through the wreckage, something shifts in the air. A strange, unsettling feeling twists in my gut. These attackers—these wolves—the
