The hill was quiet again. The slab over the cistern sealed tight, the ward-lines faint but steady. Wolves patrolled in pairs, their movements slow but sharp-eyed, every ear trained for a crack in the forest. The witches had raised the veil once more; to human eyes, the compound was nothing but trees and shadows.
Inside the longhall, the children lay on cots lined in neat rows. Lanterns cast a steady glow, soft against the rough beams overhead. Mothers and fathers stayed close, their voices hushed.
Dorian stirred first, blinking, his face pale. Ravyn leaned close at once.
“You’re safe,” she said quietly.
He rubbed his eyes. “We stopped him?”
“You did,” she said. Her throat tightened. “You were brave.”
Across the hall, Alaric shifted and tried to sit. Cassian pressed him back with one
