The Crescent Heir
"In the heart of the Blood-Moon Scion, we entertain a berserker."
"Everyone — please."
Deimon rose, both hands came down flat on the table. He exhaled once, long and deliberate, and when he lifted his face again it carried the weight of a final verdict. "I'd want everyone seated her to meet Ian Romulus, the Desert Wolf."
The name hit the room like a wave.
"And he's here," Deimon said, "to deliver a message of ultimate urgency."
The candles flickered. No one breathed.