Nobody looked away from the figure on the ridge.
The storm seemed to hold its breath around him.
Rain continued falling in violent sheets, drumming against stone and earth, yet somehow the man remained perfectly still atop the rocky outcrop. His dark cloak whipped violently in the wind, but his posture never shifted. He stood as though the storm belonged to him.
As though nature itself had stepped aside to let him watch.
Nyra couldn't explain why.
But the moment she looked at him, a strange pressure settled behind her ribs.
Not fear.
Recognition.
Something older.
Something deeper.
The old wolf beside her looked moments away from collapsing.
"Who is he?" Darius demanded.
The older man swallowed hard.
His eyes never left the distant figure.
"We called him Malakar."
Lightning s
