VALERIE.
The dreams returned the night after Frostwood.
But this time, they didn’t show war or fire or lost futures. This time, they showed a face. A hooded figure, cloaked in black and blood, walking freely through our camp. Smiling at our warriors. Handing scrolls to scouts. Whispering to someone in a healer’s robe. When I awoke, the name was on my lips. But I didn’t speak it aloud. Not yet.
Tension clung to the air like mist.
I sat at the head of the crescent table, my mates flanking me. Generals, emissaries, seers, and elder wolves stood before us. Their faces were weary. But more than that, they were suspicious. Rumors had already begun to spread. That someone inside the palace had allowed the shrine to fall. That the Frostwood strike had been anticipated. That Valerie was being w
