Nyra couldn’t stop thinking about the name. Princess Nyra Valeris. It rung through the cottage, hanging in the air long after the oracle said it—like the walls themselves remembered it and kept whispering it back.
Outside, the storm was just gone. No more pounding rain, no more thrashing winds. Even the birds fell silent. It was like the whole world just held its breath.
Waiting.
Nyra stared at the silver bracelet on her wrist. The red glow had faded, and now just polished silver shimmered against her skin—engraved with wolves circling a blood-red moon. It looked so old, like it didn’t belong anywhere but right here on her arm.
She tried to tug it off. Nothing. She twisted, dug her nails underneath until her fingers hurt. Still nothing.
“What is this?” Even her own voice sounded stran
