Killian’s POV

The air changes before the alarm sounds.

I feel it first—a pressure behind my eyes, a faint metallic taste on my tongue, the way shadows pull a fraction too long against the stone walls. Magic has a language, and this is its warning breath.

Then the bells begin to ring. Not the outer watch bells. Not the training summons. These are older. Deeper. The ones bound into the bones of the pack long before my name meant anything.

Sacred grounds. I’m already moving before the second ...