CHAPTER 86— Cracks in the Victory
The first crack appeared at dawn.
It was small. Almost dismissible. A hairline fracture in the magic wards along the eastern ridge, no wider than a thread of light. Mark noticed it while making his morning rounds, boots crunching softly against new-grown grass that still did not smell quite right.
He crouched, pressing his palm to the ground.
The earth flinched.
Mark drew back sharply, breath hitching. The soil beneath his hand rippled as if something had recoiled from his touch. Not corrupted. Not hostile.
Confused.
“That’s new,” he muttered.
By noon, the second crack appeared.
A bonded pair in the southern plains collapsed mid-shift, both wolves crying out in shared pain that left no physical wound. By evening, three packs reported sudden vertig
