Mira’s POV

The scout arrived before dawn, his face drawn and breath uneven. I knew before he said that something had shifted outside the walls. He handed me a wooden token, a thin piece of bark with a burned mark. I turned it twice before looking up. He said nothing, only waited.

I asked when it appeared. He said during the night patrol, on the northern edge, where the mist hung low. Tracks circled themselves, as if something had doubled back. No one else had seen it. That was both a comfort ...