The Queen’s POV
Far from the lands of Crescent Silver Pack…
The throne was carved from obsidian and bone, jagged like teeth, rising high above a floor of polished black stone that reflected firelight in eerie, flickering shadows.
A heavy silence sat over the chamber, broken only by the soft hum of something ancient.
At its center, she sat.
A woman of such breathtaking beauty that even the torches seemed to bend toward her, desperate for her attention.
Her skin was smooth and pale as moonlight, untouched by time. Long, ink-dark hair cascaded around her shoulders, and she combed it with slow, graceful movements, each stroke like a ritual.
Her fingers were delicate, but something about them whispered of ruin.
Her eyes—green like the heart of a forest in spring—were striking, mesm
