POV: Kael
She crossed the threshold like a ghost reclaiming her throne.
The wind stilled. The murmurs died. Every eye fixed on her—on the woman the world believed was long dead.
My mother.
Unaged.
Unapologetic.
Alive.
I stared, breath caught between disbelief and a long-buried ache. My wolf—silent for most of my life—stirred. Not with recognition. With dread.
“You’re supposed to be dead,” I said, my voice low and raw.
Her lips curved into something between a smile and a sneer. “So are many things. But some of us refuse to stay buried.”
Aria stood beside me, rigid as stone. She didn’t tremble, didn’t flinch. Her fingers brushed mine, steadying me even as her eyes locked onto the woman who had stepped from myth into memory.
“My son,” the woman said softly, as though the years betw
