*Greenwood — The King's Glade, Night*

Silver beams of moonlight poured through the canopy. Moss draped over roots as thick as walls.

Ryder stood at the center, his broad frame straight and steady, but his golden eyes tracked every shadow.

Wolves whispered that the Greenwood King had ruled longer than they could think of, a relic of the old bloodlines. Ryder knew better than to take whispers lightly.

The forest stayed close to him. This was no ordinary clearing. ...