Elijah’s pov
The camp quieted to the hush before midnight. Soldiers whispered about their posts; the crackle of watchfires was the only sound. I sat in a small tent, leaning over a table covered in scrolls, records of patrols, last sightings, schedules of watchmen. My shoulders ache from stress. The maps traced every path, every secret entrance. I had a duty to keep our pack safe, to guard Leila’s secret as fiercely as I guarded my own life.
One of our scouts, Arin slipped in, eyes bright with urgency. “Lord Elijah,” he hissed. “We saw tents moving across the ridge. Five shapes with torches, but they vanished before we could close in.”
My chest tightened. “Could be Sebastian’s shadow-wolves, or spies carrying lanterns. We need to find them.” I rose, brushing my cloak back. “Gather Henry
