Dawn in the Eastern Deadlands did not arrive with a breaking of light; it was merely a subtle, sickly thinning of the absolute darkness. The bruised, purple clouds swirling above the jagged volcano seemed to pulse like an infected heart, casting a pale, suffocating twilight over the Valley of Whispers.
At the base of the massive volcanic incline, the unified army of the Winter Court and the Blood Moon Pack stood in absolute, terrifying silence.
They had not slept. They had spent the few hours of respite sharpening blades, binding wounds, and mentally preparing their souls for the slaughter that awaited them. The fortress of the High Coven loomed above them, a colossal, nightmarish cathedral of black iron and fused bone anchored directly into the bleeding rock of the mountain. The jagge
