KAEL – POV
The air was cold, whipped sharp by the lingering wind of dawn. I stood on the ridge above our burned-out camp, watching ash drift through silver light, embers glowing in black pits where tents had stood. My bones ached—honor defeated, trust scorched, the weight of broken vows heavier than any crown.
Ayla knelt beside the survivors below, her voice firm as she helped gather wolves into order. I could smell her scent rising—a steady burn of moonfire under steel, raw and sacred. She had become something fierce. Something untouchable. The First Luna's presence thrummed beneath my ribs, tethered to hers like warm iron.
I shook the echoes of betrayal away. Council lines fractured. Allies gone quiet. Scouts fled with dark rumors of assassin marks on their backs. But this wasn't about fear. It was about survival. The valley needed a king—not a tyrant drenched in blood, but a protector.
