Mark’s POV

The wind had changed.

That was the first thing I noticed when I stepped onto the balcony before dawn. It wasn’t the usual chill drifting down from the hills; it was sharper, restless. The kind of air that carried the scent of blood before a battle.

I held the railing tighter and looked out at the horizon.

Nothing moved.

But the silence felt armed.

But I didn’t trust it.

Eamon’s report from the northern fence kept circling in my head. Old magic. Shadow cloaks. And the name ...