Chapter Thirty-Nine
The southern pass lay shrouded in fog so thick it swallowed even the ridges at the edge of sight. The valley smelled of damp earth, sweat, and the lingering iron of yesterday’s battle. Wolves prowled silently along the ridges, shifting between human and wolf forms with fluid grace, muscles rippling beneath fur, claws scraping stone, noses twitching at every faint scent. Lyra’s ears pressed forward, tail low but tense, her senses stretched to the fullest.
Cain moved beside her, partially shifted, every muscle coiled, his eyes scanning the fog. He could sense the enemy long before the scouts returned. His pack mirrored him, instincts sharp and lethal, attuned not only to his commands but also to the subtle influence that Elias had begun to exert. Even now, the fragment
