The ground beneath the Sovereign Hold trembled again.
Not violently. Not in warning.
In recognition.
Aria stood in the center of the inner grounds, bare feet pressed against cold stone etched with ancient sigils. Dawn had not yet broken. The sky above the open courtyard was bruised purple, clouds hanging low as if the world itself were holding its breath.
She could feel everything.
The Hold.
The land beyond it.
The distant echo of wolves she had never met.
It pressed against her awareness from all directions, vast and overwhelming, like trying to breathe an ocean.
Her hands shook at her sides.
"I don't think I can do this," she whispered.
Damien stood a few steps away, arms crossed, posture deceptively calm. His eyes never left her, silver-gold light burning steadily within them.
"You already are," he said. "Whether you choose to or not."
That did not help.
Aria laughed weakly. "That's the opposite of comforting."
"I know."
