The raven’s blood hadn’t even dried before the gates of Moirai thundered with warning bells.
“They’re here,” a scout yelled. “The Ashen Pact rides under a blood moon banner.”
Kael stood still, the message still clenched in his fist. “They wasted no time.”
I moved beside him, my hand on his arm. “Then neither will we.”
We didn’t dress like royalty. There wasn’t time. We met them on the stone court, a dozen elite guards behind us. But it was me the Ashen riders stared at.
All of them—wolves bred from legacy and bloodline. Clad in obsidian armor, swords strapped across their backs. Their Alpha rode front and center: tall, lean, with silver eyes and a scar that bisected his cheek.
He was beautiful in the way poison often is—cold, sharp, and meant to kill slowly.
“Alpha Kael,” he said. “
