~ Alaric's POV ~
The storm hadn’t passed. It clung to the sky like an unspoken omen, a snarling beast circling its prey, waiting for the perfect moment to sink its fangs into the flesh and claim what it was owed. The scent of scorched earth, charred flesh, and blood hung thick in the air, staining my tongue with copper and ash.
Somewhere to my left, metal clashed against metal… a desperate, grating scrape that barely registered through the pounding in my ears. I didn’t care about the war cries or the frenzied screams of men falling to their deaths. I didn’t care about the torn flags or the wolves tearing into each other like rabid beasts.
There was only one thing I cared about.
It was her.
But the truth clawed at the back of my mind… she didn’t need saving.
Because she was the storm.
