THE FIRST SHOT
The war did not begin with a battle cry.
It began on a Tuesday morning with smoke.
I smelled it before anyone else did, the wolf in me catching it first, dragging me out of sleep at five in the morning with my heart already running. I was at the window before I was fully conscious, and what I saw turned my blood cold.
The eastern watchtower was burning.
Not an accident. The pattern of it was wrong three separate points of ignition, deliberate spacing, the specific signature of people who wanted to send a message more than they wanted to cause damage.
We can reach you, the fire said. Whenever we choose.
I was dressed and out of my room in under a minute.
The main house was already moving. Roger was in the entrance hall with Soren, both of them in the flat focused stat
