The shadows tightened.

Cold. Unforgiving.

They coiled around Lyla’s throat like a noose.

The Hollow King's presence pressed against her mind, vast and ancient. Its voice seeped through the cracks in her resolve, whispering promises wrapped in darkness.

"Kneel."

Her knees shook.

The talisman, gripped in Kane’s bloodstained hand, pulsed with crimson light. The crescent symbol glowed like an open wound. The forest’s magic, the lifeblood of the packs, bled through the air with ...