Sylvie’s Hut, Edge of Duskwood Forest, Western Territory
One Hour Later.
“Who’s out there?”
Sylvie straightened instantly when she heard quick, heavy footsteps approaching her hut. Her voice was firm, though her fingers trembled slightly.
Zion, who had been sitting on the old wooden chair with strained breathing, opened his eyes, sensing an aura he knew all too well.
“It’s them,” he whispered.
A knock sounded. Four times. Heavy. Precise.
A code used only by the Moonstrike fighters.
Sylvie glanced at Zion, confused. “Your friends?”
Zion gave a single nod. “Yes.”
He didn’t stand yet, but his whole body was coiled tight—ready to strike if it wasn’t Tyler or Finn.
Sylvie approached the door, unhooking the iron latch with care.
The moment it opened, the cold forest air swept in, alo
