Amara’s POV
The night smells of blood before the battle even begins.
War horns wake the entire fortress.
Their deep, violent echo rolls across Blackthorn like thunder.
I’m already moving before the second blast finishes.
Boots pounding against stone, cloak snapping behind me, I race through the corridor toward the battlements.
Outside, chaos has begun.
Torches blaze along the walls. Warriors rush across the courtyard, shifting mid-stride into massive wolves.
The air smells like iron and rain.
Blood is coming.
By the time I reach the top of the wall, Elior is already there. He stands at the edge of the battlements like a statue carved from shadow. His dark cloak moves in the wind as he watches the forest below.
Beside him stand several captains, and a second group.
Silver Moon w
