The second attack did not wait for dawn.
It came at night—quiet, precise, deliberate.
Silvercrest had just settled into the steady hush that followed evening patrol rotations. Fires burned low. Warriors rotated posts. The forest beyond the ridge whispered with ordinary nocturnal life.
Then the western watchtower exploded into sparks.
Not a massive blast—just enough fire to blind, disorient, and signal.
Aria was already awake before the alarm horn sounded.
Moonfire flared hot and restless beneath her skin, as if it had sensed the shift in the air seconds before the explosion. She swung her legs off the bed, heart steady even as power crackled along her arms.
Outside, voices rose.
“Western perimeter breach!”
“Form defensive lines!”
Kaden was at her door before she reached it.
They
