Kaelen's POV
I step through the shattered doorway of the Hall of Performers, and my stomach twists at the sight. The air is thick with iron and smoke, acrid and metallic, clinging to every surface it touches. The sharp tang of blood mixes with the lingering scent of sweat and burned wood, an odor that twists my gut and sends a shiver down my spine. My eyes sweep the floor, and I barely breathe. Wolves lie scattered across the hall—my pack, the Veyras, the Dravenharts—intertwined in a grotesque tableau of fur, teeth, and blood. The once-polished floors glint red under the harsh lights, soaked and sticky, reflecting shattered instruments, overturned tables, and splintered wood. The screams, the chaos, the shouts—they’re gone now, but their echoes linger, imprinting themselves on every wall,
