The words Let them come lingered in the war room long after Caleb spoke them.
No one answered.
The fire crackled in the stone hearth, but the warmth never reached me. Chelsea's letter still rested on the map table, its edges stained with melted wax, its neat handwriting somehow colder than the winter outside.
Kira picked it up again.
Her scarred fingers traced one sentence before she looked at Caleb.
"Silver-glass."
The room grew quieter.
"If Chelsea isn't lying," she continued, "Richard has crossed a line even the old Alphas feared."
Caleb folded his arms.
"Tell her."
Kira turned toward me.
"Silver-glass isn't ordinary poison. It's crushed silver mixed with Deadlands crystal. When it enters a Moonborn's blood..." She hesitated.
"It doesn't simply kill."
"It traps magic."
My
