The old healer's words lingered in the air like incense long after they left his chamber. Seren walked through the dimly lit corridors of the western wing flanked by her three mates, the silver mark at her throat no longer felt like a simple mating mark. It felt alive. Ancient. Hungry. With every step, the change inside her deepened.
Distant conversations in the lower halls reached her ears with perfect clarity. Even the faint scent of snow drifting from the northern ridge mingled with the smoke of the palace braziers in layers she could almost taste.
By the time they barred the heavy oak doors of the eastern tower behind them, the news had already escaped the healer's quarters and spread like wildfire through the palace corridors.
It moved faster than any messenger.
