The scent hit her first, or rather, the absence of it.

Celeste paused mid-step, boots crunching the frost-bitten earth, every instinct in her going still. The Silver Moon border looked the same as it had for years: familiar trees, the faint shimmer of the wards woven into the land, the quiet hum of late winter wind, and yet something was wrong.

The young scout at her side shifted nervously. “It’s just up ahead, Alpha,” he whispered, his voice hoarse from running to find her.

He was ...