Valka
Peace isn't constant.
It's something I've learned over the last few years since I became Queen. Being a Lycan was more of a curse than it was a blessing.
The truce with the humans lasted for more than a decade. Until Cyrus died. And years of alliances and truce went up in flames. Averis has been conquered. Voss has been taken. Silvermoor already fell. Ebonheart stands only by the sheer strength of the royal families.
Some fights we win. Some we lose. This one, we will win. With many loses. But there will be more in the future. And I know we will not always win.
Parchment crinkles as I pull the candle over the papers, casting a glance towards Lucien where he sleeps with Jessamine pressed against his chest. I turn left and Asterin looks from where he's perched on the window slit, overlooking the world outside going up in flames with an intelligence no fifteen year old should have.
