Chapter 15: The Wolf’s Den
The wind that rolled across the plains was colder here, carrying the tang of smoke and something darker—blood, maybe, or the memory of it. The jagged peaks of the Ironfang range loomed ahead, their shadows stretching long fingers across the earth.
The watcher stood where the grass met the first scatter of black rock, still as a carved statue. Their hood was down now, revealing a face as sharp as the cliffs behind them—pale skin marked with thin, deliberate scars, each one inked in crimson dye.
“You’ve crossed far enough,” the stranger said. Their voice was low, yet it carried over the wind like a warning bell. “If you step further, you step into the Ironfang’s jaws.”
Kaelen’s hand went to his sword, but Dren moved faster, placing himself between them. “Varik
