The triumvirate's first full day of rule dawned under a sky heavy with storm clouds. The palace buzzed with uneasy activity as servants scrubbed blood from the great hall floors and carpenters hastily reinforced the damaged solar tower doors.
Inside the royal chamber, the air carried the lingering scent of moon herbs from the ritual and the sharper tang of healing salves applied to the triplets' wounds.
Seren sat curled in a wide window seat, her new wolf senses still adjusting to the overwhelming flood of information. Every distant footstep, whispered conversation in the corridors, and every shift in the wind carried meaning now. The dark fur along her shoulders and forearms caught the pale morning light, soft and shimmering. Her golden-flecked eyes watched the horizon where the northern mountains loomed like jagged teeth.
