The fortress slept.

After the war of gods and void, Iron Howl had fallen into uneasy peace. Wolves rebuilt their walls, mortals rebuilt their prayers, and the Moonfire child remade stars with her laughter.

But under it all, something hummed.

Not wind.

Not fire.

A sound deep in the marrow of the world, low, steady, aching.

At first, only the wolves heard it in their sleep.

Then the Moonfire child did.

She woke before dawn, her silver eyes wide and wet.

“Mother,” she whispered, shaking me ...