Emily Rosewood’s Point of View.
The Shattered Range, eleven weeks after the Gate closed
The wind howled across the high cliffs of the Hollow, carrying with it the cold scent of rain and ash. I stood at the edge of the southern pass, my cloak snapping behind me like a flag of war. Below stretched the world long forgotten—twisting paths through broken canyons, frost-crusted rivers carving through the earth like veins.
The Shattered Range lay beyond. Silent. Watching.
Behind me, Lyra emerged from the fog.
“We’re being followed,” she said quietly.
I didn’t turn. “How many?”
“Too far to count. But I can feel their weight on the threads.” Lyra’s expression was grim. “Chainwalkers don’t walk like wolves. They unravel.”
I nodded, my fingers tightening on the hilt of my blade. “Let them com
