River’s breath caught as the name wrapped around her heart like armor.
Tempest. Her wolf.
Not a gentle whisper like she’d imagined all her life—but a force of nature, a creature born of dark bloodlines and divine fire.
She fell to the ground, her knees hitting the stone hard—but she felt no pain. Her body surged with strength, with purpose. She was whole now.
The ritual circle collapsed in a ring of fire and smoke, and Queen Alia shielded her face.
When the smoke cleared, River stood at the center, her hair crackling with static, her eyes glowing like storm-lit skies.
Alia stared, speechless for a breath.
“You… you did it,” the queen murmured, awe plain in her voice.
River turned her head slowly, her gaze piercing, but calm.
“No,” she said. “We did.”
From within her, Tempest h
