POV Alpha Jackson
The "Star Formation" had been perfect. On paper, it was an unbreakable geometric defense, a interlocking web of sixty auras amplified by the Palace’s own resonance. But as the first wave of Alaric’s vanguard slammed into our perimeter at the mouth of the great courtyard, the math started to fail.
I stood at the center of the line, the Sun blade gripped in my right hand. The golden steel was a constant heat against my palm, a physical manifestation of the pack’s collective will. Beside me, Sable—pure, solid white and radiant—was the sun around which we orbited. Her howl had initiated the defense, and for the first few minutes, it was a slaughter.
The Shadow-Thralls came at us like a tide of oily rags. They had no scent, no heartbeat, and no fear. They threw themselves o
