Three Council airships descended over the ridge.
Their obsidian-and-steel hulls blocked the gray morning light. The Elder Council sigil shone on each side as the engines settled into a low vibration.
The lead platform lowered near the ruins. Elder Vance stepped off alone.
Silver ran through his braids. He took in the frozen bodies, the open wall of the pack house, and Kaelen bleeding beside my ward. His gaze stopped on the cabin's gold seal.
“Report,” he said.
Kaelen stirred in the snow. He managed to lift himself on one elbow and found me through the window.
“Elara, lie for me.” Without the bond, his voice sounded thin. “Say the storm did it. Say the wraiths broke the ward. Tell him I fought for the pack. Please. Give me one more chance.”
He kept promising things, though I stopped
