POV: Nova
The winter wolves hit the sealed doors like a battering ram.
All of them at once a coordinated impact that shook the walls and sent dust raining from the ceiling and made every shadow creature in the room freeze mid-step, their dark heads swinging toward the sound. The sealed doors held, Morgessa's magic braced against the assault, but the wood groaned and the hinges shrieked and the silver light blazing from Nova's chest pulsed in answer, recognizing them, pulling toward them like a compass needle finding north.
Her wolves. Responding to the Crown.
Morgessa felt it too. Nova watched her register the connection the Crown awakening, the winter wolves answering its call, the plan she had spent weeks constructing developing its first real cracks. Her flat silver eyes moved from the shuddering doors to Nova's blazing chest, and something shifted in her ancient face.
She started laughing.
