The forest bowed when King Brennan passed through it.
Animals fled his path. Birds fell silent. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
He moved like a shadow between the trees, tall and broad. His senses stretched wide. Every sound, every scent, every shift of the earth beneath his boots was known to him.
This land was his duty.
And his prison.
Brennan stopped at the edge of the river. His reflection stared back at him from the dark water. Silver eyes. A scar across his chest, hidden beneath his cloak. A crown he never wore.
"Still guarding ghosts," he muttered.
The pack kept their distance. They respected him. They feared him. But no one walked beside him.
That was the law now.
A sudden scent cut through the night.
Blood.
Humans.
Brennan's body went still. His wolf stirred beneath his skin, restless and alert.
No human crossed into the Forbidden Forest by chance.
He turned sharply, following the trail deeper into the trees.
Something had changed.
And the forest knew it.