scream-raw, desperate-clawed at his instincts, her scent of sweat and blood a beacon beyond the tunnel's green-flame barrier. The obsidian shard hovered ab

e a cold judge. The ravens swirled, their crimson gazes darting be

as pack, sworn to him, her loyalty forged in hunts and battles. But the shard was the Key's third

Guard the pack, or all is lost. Duty warred with instinct, the curse a m

skull glowing with sickly light. The green flames flared higher, their heat a physical weight, a

g a new scent-Veyne's, but tainted, laced with t

. "The Citadel's curse claims its own. Save her, and you lo

s claws lengthening, fur rippl

r dripping from its hollow socke

yes now black, her claws raking her own flesh as the Citadel's runes burned into her skin. She howled, not in pain bu

lowing, her pendant pulsing as she laughed, he

uder, promising strength to save Veyne, to crush Isabella, to rule as the First Howl's heir. But the figure's wo

isting, but he slashed again, the blade's magic cutting through the Citadel's spell. The barrier shattered, gr

and final, as the ravens swarmed

ly, their light dimming as he ran. Veyne's scent grew stronger, mingled with rot and something older, hu

d ahead, and he slowed, cl

lack sap. Veyne knelt at the center, her armor shredded, her dark hair matted with blood. Her amber eyes were

, her gaze locked on a figure before her-a woman, cloaked in shad

is rage a furnace, but the wo

hat cut deeper than steel. Her cloak shimmered, revealing armor of bone and vine, a

ord a hook in his mind. "I am Lysara, last of the Suldari's seers.

rd slashing, but he pulled the blow, grazing her arm instead of killing. She h

convulsed, her form twisting further, li

r moon-eyes gleaming. "Or join her.

e. Veyne charged, and the chamber became a storm of