KAEL'S POV
The chamber was a furnace of shadows and fire.
The First Luna stood before me, no longer tethered inside Ayla but walking on her own, each step a ripple of raw power. Her robe of silver flame brushed the ground, burning the stone black with every pass. Her eyes—gods, those eyes—were the same shade as Ayla's, but colder, older, devoid of mercy.
Behind me, Ayla sagged in my arms, her skin pale from blood loss, breath ragged. I could feel her pulse through the bond—thready, weak, but defiant. She was alive. Barely.
I tightened my hold on her, claws digging into my palms. No one—no goddess, no ghost, no wolf—would take her from me.
The First Luna tilted her head, her silver hair streaming like smoke. "You've bled her nearly dry, wolf king. Do you feel proud of that?"
I growled low, my voice rough. "I bled her to save her."
