The moon hung low and swollen with crimson light, casting eerie shadows over the trees as Aria stood motionless, watching the army assemble below.

The Cult of the Hollow Moon.

Hundreds of wolves. Cloaked figures in ceremonial armor. Magic humming through the valley like static before a storm.

Aria turned away from the ridge, her heart pounding like a war drum.

“They’re not attacking yet,” Elena said, wrapping her arms around herself. Her eyes were still lined with the faintest silver ...