VALORIA WILDEROSE
All four of us follow the trail of concubines and servants moving towards the throne room, whispering amongst themselves with curiosity.
Until we arrive at the massive hall that is now filled with a crowd, roughly consisting of almost everyone living in the castle — every single werewolf beside the Lycan guards or officials you'd spot every once in a while.
An ominous air hangs above us all the longer we wait. The louder the whispering in every group, big and small, dropping their guesses about what it's about in casual chatter.
Neither my friends nor I say a word to each other. It's as if we're all thinking the same thing, all ruminating on the bad feeling we have in our guts.
As if we all know that nothing good has ever come after that siren horn has been blown, and with Azrael gone, the uncertainty is more disturbing.
And then, just at the height of suspense, the doors flip wide open, with guards rushing in and making way for Elowen.
