Arthur’s POV
The night Silvermoon cast Sylvia out, I knew.
It was time.
The board had shifted, the players scattered,and standing alone at the center of it all was Brielle.
She didn't know it yet.
Not fully.
Not enough to stop what was coming.
But she would.
I watched from the treeline high above the northern ridge, the wind cutting sharp across the exposed stones. Far below, the packhouses burned bright with torchlight, wolves moving like ants,patrols doubling, guards shifting at unnatural hours.
Signs of a pack afraid to show it was bleeding.
They thought removing Sylvia closed the wound.
Idiots.
Sylvia was never the infection.
She was just the fever.
The true sickness ran deeper.
All I had to do was whisper to it.
Feed it.
Twist it.
And break Brielle from the inside ou
