The Forgotten Heiress: Rise of The Lycan Queen
In his sleep, he had set her free.
The silence in his soul did not scream anymore. But it no longer sang, either. It only breathed, shallow, ragged, mourning.
Above Emberhold, the clouds formed a slow, vast spiral.
Beneath, the queen walked, her shadow long, her fire dimmed but not dead.
The ground beneath her feet no longer bent toward flame. It bent toward war.
Seren would lead, not as one who was bound, but as one who had bled, and survived, and paid for every ounce of strength in loneliness.
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