Amara’s POV
The great hall of Blackthorn was carved from dark stone and ancient timber, the scent of pine smoke lingering in the air. Torches burned along the walls, their flames flickering like restless spirits.
I sat beside Alpha Elior’s throne, not as his Luna but close enough to be. I have become somewhat of the second in command to Elior.
My armour was simple but elegant, dark leather reinforced with silver clasps. The mask that concealed the upper half of her face gleamed faintly in the firelight.
The name Silver Flame has been moving around a lot since my last outburst. They don’t call me the name directly, only when I’m referred to in conversations I’m not a part of.
Somewhat like a legend.
I wore a mask yesterday, just as Kael entered the Blackthorn, and I have been wearing
