Arthur’s POV
Tyla’s breath trembled against my shoulder long after the last shards of lantern glass stopped skittering across the floor.
She wasn’t shaking with fear.
She was shaking with too much power.
Too much destiny.
Too much of something neither of us understood.
Her mark flickered white beneath her skin like lightning trapped behind bone. Every pulse sent a faint vibration through the room—the walls humming in answer, the air thickening, the floorboards creaking like a living thing shifting under our feet.
“Tyla,” I whispered, brushing her cheek, “look at me.”
She did.
And for a split second all the breath in my chest left me.
Her eyes weren’t human.
They weren’t wolf.
They weren’t anything mortal.
A storm lived inside them. Not chaotic—purposeful. A storm that knew whe
