The air was unusually still as Evelyn stood before the mirror in her room, the amber pendant Ronan had given her resting against her collarbone. Its soft glow pulsed with quiet power, a reminder that even in the face of darkness, there was light.
But something was wrong.
Aria stirred within her.
Do you feel it? The quiet is not peace. It’s the hush before a storm.
Evelyn stepped away from the mirror and opened her balcony doors. The skies were clear, the moon high—but the silence was unnerving.
She’d felt it since training ended. A shift. Subtle, but wrong.
Her wolf paced.
Just then, Ezra knocked, entering with tension on his face. “We’ve got something.”
Evelyn turned. “What is it?”
“One of our border patrols found signs of a ritual—deep in the forest, toward the old Ravenfang rui
