Emily Rosewood’s Point of View.
The Gathering of the Clans – the night the world almost forgot its own name
The scent of blood and fire twisted into the mountain wind.
I stood at the center of the shattered stone ring, the Seers’ shattered prophecy burning in my ears. Serinya—the Pale Flame—hovered above the sacred ground, her white eyes aglow, her form both ethereal and disturbingly solid. Flames licked at the edges of her long silver hair, but the heat did not burn the air; it warped it, folded it in on itself like paper curling in fire.
Clans were scattering. Screams rose. Warriors clashed. The Ironfangs had struck first, coordinated in their betrayal, their blades and fangs finding allies turned enemies in seconds. But the real threat—the one even Alpha Sebastian’s command couldn’t
