(Damien POV)
The ruined fortress crouched on the spine of the mountain like a broken beast—black stone towers cracked and leaning, walls breached in a dozen places, courtyards choked with frost and dead vines. Moonlight spilled through missing roofs, turning shattered marble silver. It had once belonged to a minor pack lord—long dead, long forgotten. Now it belonged to me.
I stepped through the main gate—boots crunching over frost and old bone. Shadows flowed ahead, tasting the air, testing the dark corners. No wards. No life. Only echoes and cold. Perfect.
The demon king stirred—pleased, possessive. This will be the seat. The heart. From here you will reach. From here you will break.
