Night fell hard over Oldtown.
As soon as the first shadow touched the skyline, Carlos opened his eyes. The world came into focus with a sharp clarity—he could hear every heartbeat, smell every whisper of fear that lingered in the city’s bones.
Fenris was already waiting by the cracked doorway of a busted-down ride. Beyond them, the rusted arc of the Ferris Wheel glowed faintly in the dark like the spine of some sleeping beast. Wardragon would meet them there soon.
Carlos adjusted his coat, his eyes gleaming faint gold. “How are the streets tonight?”
“Quiet,” Fenris replied, scanning the street with a predator’s calm. “Too quiet. Ragnar hasn’t struck again, yet. But his power’s… mutating. Iosefina’s searching for Kaelith. She means to strip him of his light before Ragnar corrupts it.”
