The first horn sounded at dawn.
It ripped through Nightfall like a blade, raw and urgent. Wolves sprang from their dens, instincts snapping to attention. The air shifted wrong, sharp with unfamiliar scent.
Blood.
Seraphine was awake before the second blast echoed through the mountain.
She sat up, heart racing, the pull from the night before still coiled tight in her chest. The cuffs around her wrists flared hot, reacting to the sudden spike in danger.
Attack.
Boots thundered past her door.
“The border,” someone shouted. “They’ve breached the eastern line!”
The door burst open. A guard appeared, breathless. “Stay here.”
Seraphine was already on her feet. “Where is Lucien?”
The guard hesitated.
That was answer enough.
She shoved past him and ran.
The eastern border was chaos.
T
