Lila
The chamber doesn’t punish Damien for speaking.
It listens.
The silver glow along the walls steadies, no longer flaring, no longer tightening around us like a noose. The ground beneath my knees cools slightly, the stone smoothing itself as if the place has decided to wait instead of strike.
That alone terrifies me.
Damien stays still, shoulders squared, eyes locked on the symbol burning across the chamber floor. He looks different now—not weakened, not broken.
Exposed.
“The land recognizes you,” I say quietly. “Not just as an Alpha.”
He exhales slowly. “No.”
The word lands heavy.
I wait.
“So does the council,” he continues. “Even if they pretend otherwise. They don’t talk about it anymore, but they remember.”
My pulse quickens. “Remember what?”
Damien finally looks at me.
