The air changed first.
It was subtle—so subtle that most wolves would have missed it entirely. A thinning of warmth. A faint pressure behind the eyes. The kind of shift that didn’t announce itself loudly but settled deep in the bones, whispering that something had gone terribly wrong.
Aria froze mid-step.
Lyr, walking a few paces ahead, turned immediately. “You felt it.”
She nodded, fingers curling into the fabric of her cloak. The Moonfire within her stirred uneasily, no longer calm and luminous but restless, tugging at her instincts like a warning bell she couldn’t silence.
“It’s moving,” she said. “Whatever he’s planning—it’s already in motion.”
The traitor had been careful until now. Patient. Always three steps ahead, always cloaked in half-truths and misdirection. But this time,
