Chapter Fifty-Three
Dawn had fully broken over the valley, but the tension in the forest was far from dissipated. Wolves moved cautiously through the treeline, their eyes glowing faintly in recognition of the Heart. Some lowered themselves completely, kneeling to Lyra instinctively. Others hesitated, muscles coiled, ready to test the authority that had so suddenly risen in their world.
Cain watched them, his jaw tight, fists clenched. He had never felt so powerless—yet not because he had lost strength, but because instinct itself had shifted.
“Lyra,” he muttered, voice low, almost a growl. “You can’t control all of them. Not yet.”
She met his gaze, silver eyes steady. “I don’t have to control them. I just have to exist as the Heart. Their instincts do the rest.”
Cain ground his teeth.
