The inside of my skull felt as though a marching band had stomped a number on it, and the thin flames that picked apart the darkness, offering a scarce but trickle-fed glow to the room, stabbed at my eyes with the force of daggers.

"Little wolf king," a familiar voice husked, the sound beating away at the ringing that reverberated throughout my eardrums. "I can feel your despair from here. It would drown villages."

Breathing hurt. Moving hurt. Everything hurt.

Blinking hard, squinting and struggling, my surroundings slowly began to bleed back into focus. It was a recognisable scenery, a place that tugged at the banks of my memory; I...