Chapter 8

Caspian buried the shattered vases beneath the moonstone tree, each shard of his children’s remains wrapped in their favorite blankets—pink for Stephanie, blue for Elizebeth. He Kowtowed until his forehead bled, the scent of wolfsbane from their graves mixing with his tears. ”;I failed you,”; he howled to the empty sky, shifting into his wolf form and tearing at his own fur until he lay bloody and broken in the dirt. ”;I failed you.”; My plane touched down in New Dawn City. I swapped my sim card, erasing every trace of Caspian, but the Stone River trending hashtag burned like a brand: BREAKING: NEW ART INSTALLATION IN CASPIAN TOWER—THE she wolf’S CURSE. I knew I shouldn’t look. The image loaded: Cilian’s face, now a permanent horror of silver and bone, displayed like a trophy. Below it: ”;A warning to traitors.”; I slammed the phone shut, nausea rising. My new apartment smelled of lavender. Next door, party music thumped nightly—drums, laughter, the wild howls of