THE BLOODBOUND STRIKE
The forest had changed. The previous night’s devastation lingered, twisted into the roots and soil like scars in flesh. Kael moved cautiously through the wreckage, every step heavy with fatigue, every breath charged with tension. His wolf instincts screamed, warning him that the calm was only temporary—a fleeting reprieve before the storm.
Beside him, Nara’s silver glow pulsed faintly, controlled but strained. Lyra clung to her arm, still trembling from the memory wolves, her golden eyes wide and unblinking. Even Riven’s pack seemed quieter than usual, alert but wary, bodies tensed as if they anticipated a predator they could not see.
Kael’s jaw tightened. “They’re coming. The awakened won’t wait until we’re ready—they’ll strike as the Queen intends.”
Nara nodded,
