Marked From Birth
Slowly, with Silas’s strength and the humans' leverage, the boiler slid into place.
Silas wiped the sweat from his brow and looked at Hagar. "The boiler doesn't care about your bloodline, Alpha. It only cares about the weight. And right now, the weight is too much for any of us to carry alone."
One by one, the warriors began to peel off their furs and join the labor. The city of Aethelgard—the City of the Iron Root—began to rise. It wasn't beautiful like the Silver Citadel. It was loud, it was smoky, and it was made of brass and basalt. But as the first geothermal lights flickered to life in the fog, Audrey realized it was something the Silver Citadel had never been: it was honest.