Vehlara Valley
“Tyler, stop.”
Zion’s voice was calm but firm enough to make all the Sentinels behind him halt at once.
Silence blanketed the valley, thick with fog.
Beta Tyler turned, his shoulders tense. “Something wrong, Alpha?”
Zion frowned. Cold vapor escaped his breath with every word. “This fog isn’t natural. Don’t you smell it? No scent of soil or dew. I think it’s magic.”
One of the Sentinels whispered behind them, “Sir, the forest feels… alive. Like it’s watching us.”
Zion didn’t reply. He scanned the towering trees—like stone giants—with roots coiling through the damp earth.
A shadow flickered in the distance, then vanished into the mist.
Tyler reached for the sword on his back. “Morghen. He must’ve left something here.”
“No,” Zion murmured. “He didn’t leave it. His pow
