Forbidden by the Triplet Alphas
The students in the dormitories cried out, their voices a mix of fear and relief, and I heard Theron shouting for them to run, to leave, to not look back.
I stood over Lorna, the crown in my hands, its thorns cutting my palms. Blood dripped down my wrists, mixing with the black liquid that still clung to the thorns. The gold beneath my skin surged, and the crown began to glow—not black, not dark, but gold. Pure, bright, living gold.
The king screamed. His voice echoed in my mind, in the bond, in the shadow itself. And then he was gone.
The crown went still.
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