The fortress had gone silent.
No screams. No orders. No sound at all except the steady crackle of dying flames licking at the ruins. Dawn crawled over the horizon in a slow, red haze, touching the black stone with a glow that looked too much like spilled blood.
Liora stood at the balcony of the destroyed throne hall, the wind tugging at her hair, her eyes fixed on the faraway forest. Her power pulsed softly under her skin, not roaring as before, but whispering, like a caged beast purring after a kill.
Behind her, her favorite slaves waited. Kael. Gonzalo. Nyssa. Dante. Vanya. Elira.
None of them spoke. None dared.
The Blood Alpha no longer needed to shout or threaten. Her silence was enough.
Vanya stood furthest from the others, still clutching the burn marks that hadn't healed since the night before. Her body trembled with exhaustion, but her distrustful eyes never left Liora. She knew what power could do to someone. She'd seen it twist kings, gods, and wolves alike.
