Devon stood frozen in the doorway of the infirmary, his fingers trembling against the wooden frame as the weight of the news settled on him like a crushing boulder. Several pack families… gone. Entire households were wiped out near the border. The whispers inside the hall were poisoned with fear, the healers' faces pale, the warriors' eyes steeled with quiet rage.
But all Devon heard, felt, was the shattering inside his chest. He backed away, the corridor spinning. His breath hitched, shallow and uneven, as he staggered toward the nearest wall, gripping onto it to stay upright. His vision blurred. His heart cracked open.
He had fought so hard for this pack. Bled for them. Nearly died for them more times than he could count. He had given everything, his magic, his body, his sanity, to protect this place. To protect Elias. To protect Lucien.
And yet…
More death. More failure.
His fault. His weakness. His cursed magic brought nothing but danger.
