The sun sank low, spilling its last breath of gold across the ruined courtyard. Shadows stretched long and deep, bleeding into the cracks of stone and blood that lined Bloodfang pack. The air carried a thick silence, the kind that waited for something cruel to happen.
Every wolf in the pack stood gathered, ringed around a stone dais scorched black from the night before. The scent of smoke still lingered, mixed with iron and fear. Torches burned blue instead of orange, flames fed by the strange power Liora had unleashed. They flickered like the tongues of spirits.
At the center of it all, Kael stood in chains.
He wasn't shackled by steel, he could've broken those easily but by something heavier: the blood sigil that Liora herself had carved into the air around him. It pulsed faintly, feeding on his heartbeat, each thud echoing like a drum of surrender.
