And for the first time in his life—he was afraid of himself.
“I’m lost.”
The words were only whispers within the roaring void.
His commanders followed him at a distance, no longer trying to direct him. What orders could they give a storm? They did what they could—secured the territory behind him, treated the wounded, protected their own from the collateral wrath of their prince.
But they no longer fought beside him.
Because what walked ahead of them was not their commander.
It was a calamity.
And yet, through the blood fog, something shimmered faintly.
A spark. A breath.
A distant memory—River’s laugh. Her hand in his. The softness of her lips against his.
“I need her…”
The thought flared—then drowned.
The beast growled, furious. She was weakness. Memories were chains. Now was
