"Bloodlines are not destiny, they are chains, until we decide what they're worth."
RIVEN'S POV
The tension in the secure interrogation annex was a physical thing, thick and poisonous. Hours had passed since the royal council dispersed. The Keep was buzzing with the false narrative of the southern pursuit, but down here, in the cold heart of the Dungeon, the true war was being fought with whispers and codes. I stood beside Gavriel, my magical energy focused on maintaining a tight ward around the rogue mage's cell. The mage was unconscious but restrained by heavy, specialized manacles. The air was still thick with the residue of my own chaotic Beta Seer power, a necessary shield against the rogue's latent destructive magic.
Silas was coordinating the archival work with Taemin and Nyra via shifter magic, his voice low and strained. Rell Vorn sat across the annex, still shackled, monitored by two of my strongest guards, his presence a constant, dangerous reminder of Vorath's reach.
