The night was colder than usual. A restless wind moved through the camp, carrying with it the faint sound of wolves howling in the distance. The air smelled of pine and wet soil. Torches burned low, their light flickering against the stone walls of Shadowfang’s stronghold.

Selene sat near the balcony outside her chamber, wrapped in a fur cloak. Her hands rested on the railing, her eyes distant. The moon hung heavy above her, round, pale, and unsettlingly bright. It felt like it was watching ...