The chilling blast of the distant horn faded against the stone battlements, leaving the high armory cloaked in breathless silence.
King Kaelen stood like a towering sentinel in his blackened steel battle armor, the massive dire-wolf broadsword resting against his shoulder. His golden eyes flared with a lethal, icy calm, the veins along his neck pulsing with the untamed power of his restored blood. Beside him, Elara clutched the heavy velvet mantle around her black wool tunic, her knuckles turning bone-white as the scout’s frantic words hung in the freezing air.
"A sister . . ." Elara whispered, her melodic voice trembling for the first time in weeks.
Her dark eyes widened in sudden, piercing agony. Years ago, when the pack elders had exiled her to the lower wards, they had forced her to
