The silence after the Circle shattered was brief, fragile as glass.
Then the chamber erupted.
Shouts crashed over each other, a storm of voices echoing against the stone. Some snarled, some pointed, and some raised their hands as if they had won the battle as the wolves rushed to their feet. Draven and Elaria's relationship remained intact, as shown by the faintly shimmering golden afterglow of the tether between them, but the whispers of shadow had already set their hooks deep.
“She brought corruption!”
“No, you saw it burn away—!”
“Witchcraft—”
“Stronger than any bond we’ve seen in generations—”
The elders struck their staves against the floor, desperate to rein in order, but the chamber boiled with fury, fear, awe.
Rhovan did not rush. His silver hair shone in the torchlight as
