The Silvercrest packhouse was quieter than usual, though tension still hummed beneath the surface like an unseen storm brewing. Word had spread fast—Ronan had returned, and Evelyn’s powers were growing. But there was something else stirring. Something darker.
Evelyn stood alone at the training field under the early morning sky, her breaths misting in the cold air. The rising sun cast golden streaks across her skin, but her heart felt heavy. Last night’s vision had returned—only clearer this time.
A battlefield. Flames. Howls of wolves. Blood.
She pressed her fingers to her temples. Not again…
Behind her, footsteps crunched in the frost. She didn’t need to turn to know who it was.
“Did you sleep?” Ronan’s voice was low, slightly hoarse. He had stayed behind after last night’s strategy
