The first thing I saw was the king’s army.
They crested the far ridge in disciplined lines, banners snapping violently in the cold wind, armor dark as spilled ink. For one fragile heartbeat, hope sparked in my chest.
They were fewer.
Not small—never that—but fewer than us. Fewer than the combined packs had gathered here. Fewer than the sea of warriors stretching before me, shoulder to shoulder, steel and fur and magic standing united.
We might actually win this.
The thought was dangerous. I knew that. Hope could get people killed. Because then the ground shifted beneath my feet—not physically, but something far worse—and I felt him.
The king.
His magic rolled across the land like a storm front, heavy and ancient and wrong. It pressed against my skin, against my bones, against the sh
