The forest murmured a thousand gentle fibs as Nephtar moved unseen as a shadow through their shadows, step by deliberate step, breath held hard against the cold night.

The thick canopy above sucked the final remnants of daylight in, and the moon sailed white and vigilant, its light spilling between the gnarled branches in thin, slanting slivers of delicate silver.

The borderlands between Black Claw and the untamed unknown had always been an uneasy accommodation—where alliance was haggled ...