The council emissaries arrived before dawn.
They did not howl.
That did not announce themselves.
They simply crossed Ravencrest’s boundary as if it had been waiting for them all along.
I felt their presence before the horns sounded an icy pressure crawling beneath my skin, coiling around the bond like fingers testing a pulse. Whatever connected me to Draven recoiled, then hardened, as though bracing for impact.
“This isn’t Blackfang,” I said quietly.
Draven was already pulling on his armor. “No. This is worse.”
The fortress erupted into motion.
Gates slammed shut. Wolves assemble in disciplined silence, weapons gleaming in torchlight. The air filled with the sharp tang of magic ancient, controlled, merciless.
The emissaries entered unchallenged.
Five figures cloaked in ash , gray
