Stephano's POV
Power was easier to face than doubt.
I had fought rogues, witches, and men who believed fear made them kings. Those enemies were simple. They stood in front of you, bared their teeth, raised their weapons. You knew where to strike, because you could predict their next move.
Doubt on the other hand moved differently.
It whispered. It waited. It made me question everything and it lingered everywhere you go.
I felt it everywhere as I walked the lower corridors of Deephowl that night.
The mountain had always felt alive to me, stone made by generations of wolves, halls shaped by memory and blood. Tonight, it felt like it watched me all night. Like something waiting for an impact, except I felt like I couldn't fight the impact if it came. I am used to predicting the next move of my opponent. But now I don't know if I can.
