The war began with silence.
Not with a bang. Not with swords clashing or spells soaring.
But a hush so thick, so unnatural, it wrapped around the land like a funeral shroud.
Ivy stood at the eastern wall of the capital fortress, the wind tugging at her cloak. Her eyes were locked on the horizon, where the storm churned in colors no natural sky should ever hold—inky black, sickly green, and deepest violet.
Beside her, Kael’s wolf stirred beneath his skin. She could feel it.
Ready. Protective. On edge.
“Why is it so quiet?” she asked softly.
Kael’s jaw was tight. “He wants us to hear our own fear.”
Behind them, the witches completed the final circle of runes. Warriors of every clan lined the walls. Shifters in hybrid form, fae archers, dwarven shield-masters, and vampire knights all
