The night air was thick with unease.
I stood on the balcony outside our chambers, watching the distant torches flicker along Bloodmoon’s perimeter. The pack was on edge. Warriors patrolled the borders, their steps sharp and precise. The scent of burning wood and steel drifted through the air—a reminder that we were preparing for war.
For Syren.
I still couldn’t believe it.
She was supposed to be dead.
Kane had told me how she fell in battle, how her body was swallowed by the chaos of war. But now, her name was whispered in the dark, carried on the wind like a curse. And that body on the spear—the warning carved into his flesh—proved she wasn’t just a ghost haunting our nightmares.
She was real.
And she was coming.
I tightened my grip on the balcony railing, the metal cool beneath m
