Chapter 23 The Frozen Puppet

• The consciousness of a Lycan King is usually a blazing inferno of violet light and primal instinct. But as Silas opened his eyes, he found only a vast, silent tundra.
• He was sitting on a throne made of blue-veined ice, his hands resting on armrests carved from the tusks of prehistoric beasts. He couldn't feel his fingers. He couldn't feel his toes. In fact, he couldn't feel the "Soulbond" that usually hummed like a second heartbeat in his chest.
• Everything was cold. A dry, clinical cold that had settled into his very marrow.