The storm had quieted by dawn, but the silence it left behind was worse.

The air outside Crescent Keep hung thick with smoke and tension, the kind that made the back of your neck prickle. Every wolf could feel it, the pull of something ancient and dangerous gathering in the distance.

Darius stood at the head of the courtyard, armored in black and silver, his cloak snapping in the wind. The scarlet light of the rising moon cast long shadows over his face, carving his features into something ...