AYLA — POV
I woke to the taste of silence.
No bond. No pulse of other wolves.
Just me.
For the first time since the rite—since scent magic was twisted around my throat and fate yanked me into Kael's orbit—I felt the edges of myself again.
Clear. Sharp. Unforgiving.
The Grove was quieter. Even the birds seemed unsure if they were allowed to sing again.
I sat up slowly. My hands were clean. No blood. No rune-light. Just skin. But the scar across my collarbone—it still burned faintly.
I remembered everything.
The memory-wolves. The bloodwell. The Echo, whispering with my voice. Neris, crowned in fire. The bond shattered in my chest like a star collapsing.
And Kael.
His arms are holding me.
The ache in his voice when he said. "You've always been mine."
But I wasn't. Not anymore.
Rylan was the first to greet me. He didn't bow. He didn't dare. He stood at the grove's edge, arms crossed, eyes unreadable.
"You remember who you are?" he asked.
I nodded.
