Lyra’s POVThe moon hung low, veiled by fast-moving clouds. The forest stretched endless before them, every branch slick with rain, every root threatening to catch a boot.The company moved in silence. Fifty warriors, Thorne at the lead with scouts slipping in and out of the mist, Valeria’s ward-lights flickering faint blue to keep them from straying. Kane rode at the center, his presence a constant anchor, his aura steady as fire through the fog.Lyra walked at his side, her shawl drawn tight, the crescent stone warm against her chest. Each beat of it matched the thrum of her pulse, too loud in her ears. She knew the others could feel it, too. Some glanced at her, their expressions unreadable. Reverence. Fear. Both.The mist thinned as the path dipped toward the river valley. A cold wind carried the smell of damp stone and something sharper, acrid.“We’re close,” Thorne murmured, his wolf half-risen in his eyes.Lyra followed his gaze.Through the trees, faint against the horizon, ros
Last Updated : 2024-11-27 Read more