I found myself back in the throne room of the old werewolf palace.
Dead.
Everyone was dead.
Kieran. Lira. Lucas. Even the young ones I barely remembered.
All of them twisted into grotesque corpses.
And standing in the middle of the blood-soaked floor?
Me.
Not as I was now—but older. Crueler. Crowned and dripping in ichor. Her eyes were wild. Her mouth stretched into a predator's grin.
"I am what you become if you win," she said. "If you kill Caelum. If you keep going."
"I am the end of your story."
I drew my blade.
"No," I whispered. "You're just another obstacle."
We fought.
Magic against magic. Power against power.
She was faster. Stronger.
But I was more desperate.
I knew what it meant to lose.
I rammed my blade through her throat and held it there as she laughed, bleeding golden fire.
"I'll be waiting," she hissed as she died. "Inside you. Forever."
Trial Three: The Future That Hungers—passed.
When I stumbled out of that field of ash, the Realms changed.
