★Nuel's POV★
"I've been waiting for you," a voice said as I opened my eyes.
Alive and breathing.
But when I looked around, confusion clawed at my chest. I was in an enclosed space, sprawled on the cold floor, with a lone figure standing before me.
My hands flew instinctively to my side, to the same spot I had been stabbed yet there was nothing. No wound, no pain and no trace of the blood that had gushed out earlier. Only smooth, unbroken skin.
The room, if I could call it that, had no doors, no windows, not even the faintest line to show I'd entered from somewhere.
Tension gripped me. My muscles stiffened as I pushed myself to my feet, eyes fixed on the silhouette before me.
"Where am I? Who are you?" My voice came out rough.
"You stand at the brink of death, Nuel, son of Rhaziel, wolf king of the Western packs," the figure replied, its tone calm, almost ancient. "Right now, you exist on the thin line between the living and the dead."
