The first scream split the night like a jagged tear in the fabric of the world.
It came from somewhere beyond the treeline — sharp, guttural, and cut short by the wet sound of something tearing. Draven’s head snapped toward it instantly, his molten-gold eyes blazing. One hand went to the hilt of the curved blade at his hip, the other motioning Elaria to stay behind him.
But Elaria didn’t stay behind. She felt the surge of power in the air — that strange, metallic taste of imminent death — and instinct flared hotter than reason. She was already moving when the first shadow broke through the trees.
The creature that lunged at them wasn’t quite wolf and wasn’t quite man — its jaw was too long, its claws too hooked, and its eyes were an unnatural shade of glowing red. It didn’t hesitate; it
