(Maria POV)
The Buried Ones remember. The Revenants obey. And came for her.
The storm arrived without warning.
A blood-red mist rolled in over the trees, swallowing sound, and devouring the scent. The air turned thick, metallic—like iron and rot. Wolves howled in warning, and every torch in the stronghold flickered blue before extinguishing in unison.
Maria stood on the balcony of the old fortress, dressed in her ceremonial Luna armor—dark leather traced with lunar runes, the silver crescent circlet gleaming against her brow.
“They’re not hiding anymore,” Joseph growled at her side. His knuckles were white around his sword hilt.
“They never needed to,” Luca added. His voice was taut, his pupils slit, already dancing on the edge of the shift. “They were waiting for tonight.”
Maria’s
