"Power is not proven in the roar of a throne, but in the silence that forces others to bow."
The Eastern Chambers loomed ahead, their carved doors breath away, and yet my gut twisted as if I were already too late. Vayne paced in my chest, restless, his growl rumbling against my ribs. She is stirring as the air stinks of wolves who should not be here.
Marcus kept striding at my side, shoulders squared, jaw tight. Behind us, Silas walked with his usual calm, though the twitch of his fingers betrayed his nerves. Niko trailed, eyes half-closed, as if listening to threads of power none of us could hear, and her quiet unsettled me more than any spoken warning.
