Chapter 45 Fires In The Silence

• The night had not yet yielded to dawn. Smoke still lingered like ghostly veils above the courtyards, carrying with it the stench of burned shade-flesh and singed stone. Lanterns guttered along the palace walls where warriors had fought until their claws ached and their throats were raw from howling.
• Lucia walked slowly down the steps of the great hall, her gown torn at the hem, her arms smeared with ash and blood that was not her own. She could still feel the echo of her partial shift—the way her bones had snapped, her skin thickened with fur, her claws striking through shadow. Even now, her muscles trembled from the strain of holding that form for so long.
• Beside her, Kelvin’s presence was a constant flame. His arm brushed hers, not for balance but to remind her he was there, and that she was not alone. His shirt was ripped across the chest, crimson seeping through the bandage hastily tied around his ribs. Yet he moved with the steady bearing of a king, his silver gaze sharp as ever.