The night bled red.

The moon hung heavy over the valley, swollen and raw like an open wound. Its crimson glow painted the fortress walls in shades of blood and ash. Even the stars seemed to retreat, hiding from what was about to unfold.

Selene stood on the highest tower, the wind pulling at her hair, the chill cutting through her bones. Below, the Shadowfang pack readied themselves—wolves sharpening blades, fastening armor, whispering prayers into the darkness. She could hear them, every ...