DAMIEN'S POV

I leaned back in the cold, stone chair of the tower, letting the silence settle around me. The air was thick with the scent of iron—blood. Lord Seth stood a few feet away, watching me closely, his sharp gaze never wavering. His presence, as always, was unsettling. He had been the one I left in charge, the one who maintained order in my absence. Yet now, he stood there, arms crossed, questions heavy in the air.

“What is going on, Draven?” Seth’s voice broke through the quiet, laced with suspicion. His eyes narrowed as he studied me, then flicked to the wooden bowl of blood I held in...