The ground trembled beneath Amelia’s feet.
Not the way it did for a charging wolf or the distant crash of thunder. This was older. Deeper. Like the bones of the earth were shifting, turning toward her with slow, terrible intent.
Cain’s head snapped toward the trees. “You don’t want to fight this.”
She didn’t look at him. Her eyes locked on the darkness beyond the mist, where shadows moved without form, where growls sounded like language and the trees leaned back to let something through.
“I’ve fought worse,” she said, voice low.
“No,” Cain murmured, stepping closer, “you haven’t.”
The first creature emerged from the dark. It wasn’t a wolf. Not even close. Its body was wrong—twisted, jointed like an insect, fur mangled and stretched over limbs too long, eyes glowing with a hungry, anc
