CHAPTER 102
The chalk in Clara's hand had long since crumbled into a fine, pale dust that coated her palms, a stark contrast to the frantic heat flushing her face.
She was pacing the length of the East Wing's, her shoes clicking against the floor. Every few seconds, her eyes would dart toward the blank stretch of stone wall where the rift had been.
It had been over an hour. An hour since she had looked into Lucian's crimson eyes and seen a man ready to be unmade.
"Foolish, stubborn King," she hissed under her breath, her fingers trembling as she wiped a stray lock of hair from her forehead.
"Trapped in a folding reality with a myth. A nightmare." Her mind was a whirlwind of impossible questions.
How? The word echoed in her skull like a bell. Everyone who had encountered Isabella knew the "wolfless" girl.
The human-adjacent anomaly. And yet, the creature Clara had seen through that rift wasn't just a wolf; it was a Lycan.
