The horn blast tore through the tranquil morning, a jagged, discordant note that vibrated in Lucien’s very marrow. It was not the sound of a simple search party; it was the rhythmic, hunting cry of the Silver Hounds, the elite executioners of the Astralthorn High Council. They did not just track footprints in the dirt. They tracked the signature of souls, and Lucien was now the brightest beacon in the forest.
"They are already here," Nyra growled, her fingers digging into the hilt of her twin blades. Her eyes flickered, the pupils narrowing into slits as she scanned the treeline. "My father sent the Hounds. He knows I am alive."
"Let them come," Lucien said, his voice sounding deeper, richer, as if he were speaking from within a cavern. He looked down at his chest where the crystalline s
