( Kael's POV )
The longhouse had always been a place of firelight and warmth. It was the heart of the Hollow, built with timber older than most of the wolves who lived here, its walls soaked in the pack’s history.
Tonight, though, the air inside turned brittle.
The flames in the hearth dimmed to a thin, flickering blue. Lira’s breath misted in the sudden chill as she took a single step back from the cot. Storm’s tiny chest heaved, a child’s body trying to contain something far older, far wilder. His hands clenched the edges of the blanket, and the fabric shredded under pressure that no three day old should possess.
“Kael,” Lira whispered again, louder this time.
The boy’s eyes snapped open. The glacial blue had deepened, veins of silver lightning crawling across the irises. His pupil
