Author's POV
The High House had never known such silence. Not even in times of war. Grief had swallowed every corridor, every soul that walked its halls.
The people of New Orleans stood cloaked in mourning, heads bowed, hearts shattered, as they prepared to bury the children of their Alpha and Luna.
Three bodies lay still beneath layers of sacred cloth..one belonging to Cyrius Salvatore, the long-lost prince who had once returned only to fall again, and the other two… were his newborn heirs.
Hazel's babies. Salvatore-blooded. Innocent.
Their small, cold forms had been wrapped carefully, reverently, and placed in enchanted coffins lined with wolfsbane and silver vines. The scent of lavender and sage hovered in the air, masking the scent of death but not the weight of it.
This was no ordinary burial. It would not happen at dusk.
