They left the den before dawn.
The forest was cloaked in mist and silence, but something darker slithered beneath it now—an undercurrent of rot and ruin, like the land itself sensed what was stirring. Raze led the way, every movement sharp and purposeful. Cain brought up the rear, his gaze constantly scanning the treetops like he expected the sky to split open.
Amara walked between them.
Her bones felt too tight. Her skin too thin. The hunter’s blood was still under her nails. She hadn’t washed it off.
She didn’t want to.
It reminded her of what she’d seen. Of him. Of the truth uncoiling in her veins like smoke: she wasn’t just a weapon. She was a memory wrapped in flesh. A nightmare dreaming of its name.
“What are we looking for?” she asked.
Raze didn’t glance back. “The next seal.
