The battlefield still stank of burned magic and ash, the air humming with the fading echo of Althea’s wards. Celeste and Hunter barely had time to catch their breath when a shriek pierced the night. Not the bone-deep howl of an enemy wolf, not the hiss of dark magic, no, this was higher-pitched. Mortal. Furious.

“TROY!”

Hunter’s gamma froze mid-step. “Oh no.”

Celeste blinked. “That sounded like Lisa.”

“It is Liz,” Troy croaked, paling. “And unless my ears are broken, ...