"The chains you forged for another will one day rattle at your own feet."
The roar still clung to my bones. It had rolled through the dungeon like a storm breaking its chains, rattling the stone, shaking the torches, clawing at the marrow of every man and woman who stood with me. I spat onto the floor, as if I could spit the weight of it out of my throat, but it stayed lodged there, hot and raw. My Silver Fangs tried to look unshaken, but I knew them too well. Varek's grin was too wide, Syra's smirk too sharp, Kaelen's restless blade-work too constant. Even Draven, silent as always, shifted just a little, his shadow too quickly to settle.