Chapter Seventy One

Kael's Pov 

I never claimed to be a visionary. I'm not a philosopher or some grand ideologue who sits around dreaming about better worlds and how to shape them with poetry and hope. No, I do what needs to be done. When the system is poisoned, you don't write a letter to the king—you burn the throne. I didn't enjoy this war either, didn't relish in bloodshed or the deception it demanded. But I wasn't naïve enough to believe we'd see change without sacrifice. And if someone had to carry the burden of those decisions, I was willing.

I didn't hate Lucian. If anything, I pitied him. A man, trapped in a throne built on centuries of unchecked power. That was the problem—not Lucian, but what he represented. The crown. The council. The pack leaders and their stagnant rules. Their blind reverence for a hierarchy and pure bloodlines that crushed people like me.