Sylvia’s POV
I once stood at the center of every room.
Not by title.
Not by blood.
By fear.
I mastered fear. Curated it. Wove it into my voice, my posture, my smile. I used it like a blade,and for years, no one dared to challenge the edge.
But now?
Now the only one afraid is me.
Not of them.
Not even of death.
But of this: this silence that follows exile. The cold echo of irrelevance. The unbearable stillness of being forgotten.
The last door had shut behind me. The vote had passed. The guards had led me out of Silvermoon without chains, but with shame heavier than any iron.
And not a single wolf looked back.
Even Kylie.
My daughter.
My pawn.
My failure.
She hadn't even looked back when they named us traitors. She hadn’t cursed me, hadn’t cried. She'd simply walked away li
