Chapter 6. Somewhere in the Mist

Cassian POV

I detest training in human form. The scratchy, thick tunic beneath my armor barely holds its shape and does little to abate the chafing from the heavy metal plating. Swords and shields feel foreign in my arms, though I wield them with ease from years of training.

I would much rather feel the grip of my teeth as they bear down on my enemy’s neck.

But Phelan favors the old ways, a time when wolf shifters fought for—and won—control of all the lands. That was the time when wars meant lines of soldiers in glistening armor, their swords and shields falling with a clank against those of the enemy. It was a time when we fought as human as a nod to our past—when we were human.

No one remembers the first child born with the ability to shift, nor does anyone remember how it occurred. Those days are lost in the mis