Morning crept over Shadowfang with a pale, tired sun. The fortress smelled of steel and wet earth after the night patrols returned. The air carried tension, the kind that sat heavy before a storm.

Selene stood in the courtyard, her hands resting on the wooden railing as she watched the warriors gather. They were rough men and women, scarred and loyal, but their faces showed exhaustion. The fight against the rogues had drained them all.

Darius strode out from the training hall, his black shirt ...