"Twins of the Crestwave are not born, they are unleashed."
The gardens had never felt so suffocating. Even behind stone walls, I could still feel it like a claw raking down my spine, the echo of a roar that was not mine and yet carved through me as though my bones remembered. I sat on the edge of the bed in the Eastern Chamber, fingers pressed to my temples, heart thundering like I had been running for miles. My wolf, Black, still pulsed beneath my skin, smug in his revelation.
She lives. She breathes. Your blood sings for her.
"My twin…" I whispered into the silence, the words strange, fragile, like they might shatter if I said them too loudly.
