The Forgotten Heiress: Rise of The Lycan Queen
It shimmered faintly in the firelight, as if hungry.
With a practiced motion, Elara sliced her palm. The pain was sharp, clean. Blood welled up, dark and strange—not red like human blood, not golden like the Lycan kin, but deep garnet, as though shadow and flame had been fused into liquid.
She let it drip into the ancient bowl at the center of the table—an artifact older than the Keep itself, carved from stone quarried in lands long swallowed by the sea.
Kael took the dagger next, cutting without hesitation. His blood was thick and red, the blood of warriors.
Bab Populer