Tiberius‘s pov.

The mountain air grew colder as we rode deeper into the forested pass. The sky above was a canvas of grays and blacks, the stars obscured by drifting clouds. Branches scraped against our shoulders. The only sounds were hooves against soil, the occasional creak of leather, and the distant howl of wolves that always seemed just out of reach.

Dante rode ahead, his body language tight with tension. Dorian rode beside me, quiet but watchful, and Selene stayed close ...