The night after the first Blood Moon was eerily quiet. The air was thick with dampness, the smell of rain-soaked pine and ashes clinging to the wind. Even the wolves were silent, their instincts heavy with the tension that rolled through the Shadowfang fortress.

Selene stood on the outer wall, her cloak billowing around her as she stared into the endless stretch of forest. The moon hung low, pale and watchful, its light catching the faint silver shimmer of her mark—the one Darius had given ...