The Citadel was quiet now, but the calm was fragile, a thin veneer over the tension that had begun to coil like a predator in the shadows. Aria's wolf shifted restlessly beneath her skin, senses heightened, heart echoing with anticipation and unease. Something had changed—an undercurrent of deception that even Damien, ever vigilant, had sensed but had not yet fully revealed.
They had returned from the northern ridge victorious, intelligence in hand, but victory had its costs. Wounded wolves rested along the corridors, magical wards hummed in exhaustion, and the Citadel itself bore the scars of repeated attacks. Yet the real danger was no longer outside—it was within. Allies they had trusted now moved with secrecy, glances exchanged that didn't reach the Queen's eyes, whispers that dissolved when she entered a room.
