Damon noticed it first in the way warriors paused when they sensed him coming. They didn’t greet him like they used to. Their backs straightened, but their eyes didn’t meet his. Some even stepped aside like the air around him had grown colder.

He didn’t blame them.

The scent of rot was following him now.

Not actual rot ... not blood or decay. But something off. Like iron scorched over burning flowers. It clung to his skin, soaked into his shirts, lingered in the halls long after he left a ...