Tiberius’s pov.

The ground trembled long before we saw them. The rhythm of hooves echoed over the hills like war drums — sharp, relentless.

I tensed in the saddle.

“They’re coming,” I muttered.

Dorian’s ears twitched. His hand drifted toward his blade. Behind him, Selene shifted, eyes locked on the tree line.

Then they appeared — dust first, then shadows, then the riders themselves. Dozens of them tearing through the valley like a storm unchained. ...