Peace does not announce its end with thunder.
It arrives quietly—
as temptation.
⸻
The first challenge does not come from gods.
It comes from mortals who remember power.
Three days after the covenant is declared, Blood Moon’s eastern wards hum with unfamiliar pressure. Not hunger. Not void. Something sharper.
Ambition.
Zane feels it before the alarms sound.
He straightens where he stands on the ridge, the heir secure against his chest, their warmth a steady anchor.
“Someone is testing the boundary,” he growls.
Jason’s eyes flash as his arrays light.
“They’re probing the guardian field,” he says. “Carefully. They know exactly what they’re doing.”
Below them, the forest shifts uneasily. Wolves lift their heads in unison—not howling, not panicking.
Listening.
⸻
The intruders a
