By the time Wednesday rolled around, the veil hadn’t appeared again.
But I could still feel it—brushing the edge of my awareness like the breath of something ancient that had only just begun to stir.
I kept thinking about the name.
Flameheart.
It echoed in my bones now, a word that felt like both a warning and a promise.
Selene, naturally, had theories.
‘Could be a title. Could be a person. Could be a magic-infused sandwich for all we know,’ she mused from inside my mind as I flipped through one of the dusty books Killian’s pack kept in the study wing of the main house.
“Selene,” I muttered under my breath, flipping another page. “Can you be serious for five minutes?”
‘I am serious. About sandwiches. But fine, fine—Flameheart. It’s old. Older than the current packs, older than the
