Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 81 - Chapitre 90

Amara’s POVThe packhouse felt colder that night.Not because of the stone walls or the draft slipping in through the high windows, but because every hallway seemed to echo with whispers. Whispers of my name. Whispers of what I was becoming. Whispers that clung to me like smoke, even when no lips were moving.I walked the corridors slowly, listening. The torches along the walls sputtered, their light flickering too much to be steady. Every sound sharpened, the scrape of boots across stone, the distant creak of doors closing, the hushed conversations that cut off whenever I passed by.I had fought monsters. I had faced Viktor. I had carried a child into this blood-stained world. Yet none of it weighed on me the way this did, my own pack turning brittle with fear. Mira was waiting outside my chamber, arms folded. Her figure was half in shadow, her stance sharp as a blade.“You shouldn’t wander alone this late,” she said, voice taut.“I needed air,” I answered.Her gaze flicked to my wr

Amara’s POVThe next night, I couldn’t sit still.Every creak of the floorboards, every shift of the wind against the shutters had my heart racing. Sleep was out of the question. If I closed my eyes, I heard him again ,Kael, calm and certain in the forest: Strike first. End it on our terms.I had kept his treachery quiet for too long. If I told Darius, he would confront Kael openly, and blood would spill before the Forsaken even reached our gates. If I told Mira, she would put her blade through him without hesitation.No. This had to come from me.So when the moon rose high and the halls fell quiet, I left my chamber, cloak pulled tight around me, and went hunting.I found him in the armory, sharpening his blade. Sparks spat with every stroke, flashing against the hard angles of his face. He didn’t look surprised to see me.“Lady of shadows,” he murmured, as though he’d been expecting me.I kept my voice low, steady. “We need to talk.”He sheathed the blade slowly, deliberately, and l

Amara’s POVThe night hadn’t ended before the horns sounded again.This time, it wasn’t warning from the border villages. It was the walls themselves.I was already in the courtyard when the first flare lit the sky ,red fire streaking upward before bursting in a shower of sparks. The eastern watchtower, signaling attack.Shouts tore through the stronghold as warriors stumbled from their beds, dragging on armor, clutching blades. The scent of fear was sharp in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood still drying from the last fight.Darius appeared beside me, golden eyes fierce. “They’ve moved faster than expected.”“Or we’ve underestimated them,” Mira muttered, strapping her sword tight across her back. Her jaw was set, her eyes already on the gates.The ground trembled under my feet. Once. Twice. A steady rhythm, growing louder.Then came the howls.Not the living. Not wolves as we knew them. These howls were fractured, broken, like glass grinding against stone. The Forsake

Amara’s POV The courtyard reeked of blood and smoke. Dawn struggled to break through the haze the kind that tasted of iron and loss. The ground was littered with bodies, Forsaken and wolf alike. Every step squelched through mud turned red. The war horns had gone silent hours ago, yet the echo of battle refused to fade. It lived in the crackle of burning banners, in the groans of the wounded, and in the quiet, shaken breaths of those who had survived. I stood among them armor dented, hair damp with ash, my pulse still drumming like I hadn’t realized the fight was over. Across the courtyard, Darius knelt beside a fallen soldier, his hand pressed to the man’s chest. For a moment, I thought the soldier was gone until Darius’s shoulders slumped and he exhaled in relief. He was alive. Barely. I wanted to move to him, to check his wounds, to remind him that he didn’t have to carry every death on his shoulders. But my feet refused to move. I was still staring at the blackened trail

Amara’s POVMorning came slow.Mist pressed against the windows like a living thing, turning the light a sickly white. The air inside the fortress was colder than it should’ve been, though the fires hadn’t burned out. Every flame flickered toward the same corner of the room as if drawn by breath I couldn’t hear.I didn’t sleep.Neither did the walls.Something had changed since the night before. The silence was thicker now, the kind that made you wonder whether sound itself had gone missing.Cahir stirred beside the hearth, yawning softly. His eyes bright, steady, untouched by fear found mine. “Mama,” he murmured. “There’s a lady in the window.”My blood turned to ice.I knelt beside him, brushing his hair back gently. “There’s no lady, love. Just fog.”He frowned, stubborn. “She said your name.”The way he said it simple, unafraid made the back of my neck prickle.I turned toward the window. Nothing. Only condensation tracing lazy rivers down the glass. Still, I felt watched. The mar