Pendragon Cycle Brett Cooper [exclusive] -

“Tell me about your friend,” Arthur said. “This Pendragon.”

Brett looked at the boy who would be king, at Morgaine with her sea-gray eyes, at the territory that had almost been unmade by doubt. pendragon cycle brett cooper

He found her by the shore—a woman in a seal-gray cloak, barefoot on the wet sand, staring at the sea. Her hair was the color of storm clouds, and she held a broken sword across her knees. “Tell me about your friend,” Arthur said

When his vision cleared, the radio tower was gone. The coastal highway had dissolved into a muddy track. And where the tourist village should have been, there was only a thatch-roofed hall, smoke twisting from its central vent, and the smell of wet wool and woodsmoke. Her hair was the color of storm clouds,

“Will we meet again?”

Brett smiled. And for the next two days, he told stories—not of battles, but of loyalty. Of Bobby choosing compassion over victory. Of Loor’s stubborn hope. Of Gunny’s quiet courage.

And as the light swallowed him, he heard Arthur speak three words—not to him, but to the future: