The mountain beneath Frostclaw pulsed like a dying sun buried alive.
Every heartbeat of it bent the air above the northern range into shimmering distortions of heatless light. The failsafe no longer slept. It counted.
One pulse.
Two.
Each one closer than the last.
Blackthorne stood on borrowed time.
Kael stood beside me on the shattered eastern cliff where the Fold’s geometry still scarred the stone. Below us, the pack prepared in wordless efficiency—unbound scouts taking positions along impossible routes, shapewalkers shifting into bodies Heaven had never sanctioned for battle.
Rowan approached with blood on his forearms and fear in his eyes.
“The Blood Priests are retreating back into the core,” he said grimly. “They’re sealing the conduits behind them.”
“They won’t matter,” I r
