AYLA'S POV
The collar dissolved into dust.
For the first time since the silver fire had taken root in me, I could breathe without burning. My lungs filled with air that was mine—not theirs, not borrowed, not poisoned with whispers. Mine.
The First Luna reeled back, her face flickering between beauty and rot, youth and corpse. She clutched at the space where her crown had been, her voice a hurricane tearing at the ruins of my prison.
"This is impossible. You are a vessel. Nothing more."
I straightened, blood dripping down my skin, light burning under every scar. My knees trembled, but I forced them steady. My wolf pressed at my back, shoulder to shoulder with me, a low growl rolling from her chest into mine.
"No," I said. My voice cracked, but it was still mine. "I am not your vessel. I am not your heir. I am not your chain."
Her silver eyes narrowed, and the cavern trembled. "You cannot banish me. I am the First. I am eternal."
