The fragile peace lasted less than a week.
Reports flooded in at dawn: coordinated attacks on the weaker allied borders. Veil creatures—larger, more organized packs than before—had struck Frostfang outposts and Emberwood patrols simultaneously. The timing was too precise to be random.
Liora stood in the war room, her tunic now tailored to accommodate the subtle curve of her belly. The pregnancy was becoming visible, a gentle swell that drew concerned glances from the pack. She felt the child’s spark more vividly each day, a constant warm presence that amplified her lunar curse in unpredictable surges.
“We ride to the Frostfang border,” she declared, strapping on lighter armor that still allowed freedom of movement. “Riven, you take a contingent to reinforce Emberwood. We cannot lose eit
