Author's POV
The strike team assembled at dawn.
Twelve wolves stood in the courtyard of Silvermoon, their breath forming clouds in the frozen air. The snow had stopped falling, and the sky was a pale, washed-out blue. It was the kind of morning that promised nothing but cold.
Knox stood at the center of the group, his hand pressed against his chest where the shard pulsed. His face was pale, but his eyes were steady. He had spent the night preparing, not just his gear, but his mind. His soul.
Valerie stood beside him, her silver hair pulled back in a warrior's braid. She wore leather armor beneath her cloak, and a blade hung at her hip. Her expression was calm, but her hands trembled slightly.
Fenris waited at the edge of the group, his silver collar glinting in the pale light. His eye
