The moon was a pale sliver above the treeline when they crossed back into pack territory. The forest seemed quieter now, though Nyra knew better than to believe in peace. Every breath of wind carried the memory of ash.
Kael’s hand remained on the small of her back, guiding her with a subtle urgency. He hadn’t spoken since the Shadow-bound dissolved in front of them. His silence was heavier than his words would’ve been, as if each step back to the stronghold was a countdown.
At the gates, two sentries straightened at their approach. One glanced at the dark smear on Nyra’s dagger before quickly looking away.
“Any survivors?” the younger guard asked, his voice tight.
“No,” Kael said, the single word cutting like a blade.
The guard hesitated as if about to ask more, but Kael’s eyes—still
