Kieran’s POV

The morning I plan to leave, the pack breathes wrong.

I feel it before I see it—before a single alarm sounds, before boots pound stone or voices rise. The air itself feels stretched, like a bow pulled too tight. My shadow curls at my feet, restless, whispering without words.

Something is coming.

I tighten the straps on my travel pack and pause in the doorway of the guest quarters Killian has insisted I use until my departure. The room smells faintly of herbs and iron—healing ...