KILLIAN'S POV
The mud of the main road was already drying into a hard, dusty crust beneath the heavy rhythm of thousands of matching boots. We weren't sneaking anymore. The stealth of the western woods and the clever traps of the gorge were behind us; now, it was just a straight, brutal march toward the jagged stone throat of the capital.
**Vane** was dead silent in my head, but it wasn't the silence of peace—it was the coiled, breathless stillness of a predator that could already smell the throat of its prey. Every mile we gained, the thick, oily weight of Morvan’s dark magic grew heavier in the air, tasting like copper and rot. But it didn't slow us down. Every time the pressure tried to squeeze my chest, the silver-gold tether of the triad bond pulsed from my shoulder, burning right
