Arthur’s POV
Power used to be simple.
You took it.
You held it tighter than anyone else could.
And when the world demanded a price, you paid it in blood—preferably your own, because that felt like control.
Now?
Now power watches me flinch when I clench my fists.
Now it waits to see what I’ll do without pain to justify the choice.
The first time a rift stabilizes without my intervention, I feel useless.
Truly, bone-deep useless.
I stand on the ridge above the northern valley, guards spread out below me, watching villagers work in careful coordination—ropes anchored, stones placed, voices steadying one another as the air warps and then slowly, stubbornly settles.
No roaring.
No shift.
No Alpha command snapping the world into line.
Just people… holding.
My claws itch.
“Don’t,”
