The roar that shook the obsidian walls of the ice fortress did not sound like it came from a living creature. It sounded like a mountain tearing itself apart.

Lyra slammed her fists against the heavy iron-wrought door of her tower prison, the unforgiving metal bruising her knuckles. She didn't car

The iron hinges of the tower door groaned in protest before a localized explosive charge blew them cleanly out of the stone frame.

The heavy oak and metal door crashed inward, throwing up a blinding cloud of dust, smoke, and splintered wood. Lyra shielded her face, coughing as the acrid smell of s

The agonizing symphony of snapping bones echoed off the freezing stone walls of the tower, but to Lyra, it didn't sound like pain. It sounded like freedom.

For twenty years, her inner wolf had been a silent, dormant ghost, suffocated by the disdain of her pack and the crushing weight of her own in