The lycan king’s castle rose from the landscape like a colossus carved from black stone, crowned with towers so sharp they seemed to pierce the sky. As I crossed its gates, the air changed. It smelled of iron, ancient incense, and restrained power—the kind that doesn’t need to show itself because it already saturates everything.
I was received by silence. No trumpets, no courtiers, no fanfare. Only an escort guiding me through corridors carpeted in shadow, where torches burned with a blue, magical flame, and the stained-glass windows projected shapes that didn’t resemble wolves… but monsters. Gods. Fallen kings and kings who had never died.
“This place was made for you,” Skadi whispered, pleased. “There are no cages here, Selene. Only a throne that waits.”
I didn’t answer. The only soun
