LOGAN
The palace gates creaked open with slow, heavy groans. The guards stepped back, bows lowered as I passed. My wolf was quiet, but alert, like he too sensed we were stepping into something dangerous. I hadn’t told anyone I was coming. No letters. No warning. I flew under the cover of night, alone.
The King had sent a letter. But something about it… felt wrong.
The words were too clean. Too careful. It didn’t read like a message from a monarch who once demanded order with steel in his voice.
A seal anyone with access could forge.
So I came to see for myself.
The palace was quiet. Too quiet. I was escorted through the marbled halls by a single guard. No servants rushed around. No chatter. Just silence and polished stone. And then, finally, the King’s chamber doors came into view.
