Kane’s POV

War strips the world down to patterns. Angles. Timing. Pressure points.

I’m running on instinct and training as I cut through the smoke-choked courtyard, barking orders, redirecting squads, and sealing breaches seconds before they become disasters. Steel rings against steel. Wolves snarl and collide. Ancient magic burns cold across my senses like winter scraping bone.

But something is wrong. Not just that we’re under attack. Not just that the enemy came prepared. They know ...