Amedis POV
I watched from the window of my tower as my long lost daughter trained with a few of my other wolves. For a spoiled little brat, she was incredibly ruthless and bloodthirsty on the battlefield. She had a lust for blood that had been restrained at Silverstone, but now she was free to let loose.
Five of my wolves had been brought close to death while sparring with her, and one had actually died, his throat ripped out by my progeny.
But that was the way of werewolves that many of my kind had forgotten over the centuries. We were not meant to be peacekeepers and security guards for mages. We were meant to be predators and conquerors, with only the strongest among us being allowed to survive. If my wolves died during simple training, then they did not deserve to live.
