Lyssandra
The moment I returned from Draven’s pack, fury rode me like a second skin.
I stalked through the corridors toward my chamber, every step sharp, every breath laced with fire.
The journey back to Duskborne should have taken hours, yet it felt grotesquely short, as though my anger had carved a faster path through the forest itself. I had not taken the roads meant for calm minds. I had taken the paths only wolves in rage ever choose.
Valtira would pay for what she had done.
For the humiliation.
For the audacity.
For raising her filthy hand against my face.
No one touched me and walked away whole.
My cheek still throbbed, a cruel reminder of her defiance, and it only fed the storm boiling beneath my skin. I would revisit her fate soon enough. Slowly. Thoroughly. That matter
