A crimson haze clung to the horizon as the sun dipped below the ridges of the Blackfang Mountains. The fortress of Highridge, a lone sentinel between the civilized lands and the wild frontier, cast long shadows across the encampment that had sprung around it like roots clutching stone. Soldiers bustled, torches flared, and war horns sounded in low murmurs—signals passed in code across the walls.
Inside the main war room, Kaelin stood at the head of the stone table, a map spread before her and a sheen of sweat dampening her brow. Her eyes were sharper than the daggers on her belt, trained on the newly scrawled ink denoting the territory seized by the Eastern Claw.
"They’re pushing closer than we thought," said Theron, stepping up beside her. His voice was calm, but she could feel the tens
