Dorian POV
The camp wasn’t quiet. It never was, not anymore. But this silence had a different edge - taut, like the string of a drawn bow.
I stood near the central fire pit, scanning the perimeter. Warriors moved like shadows through mist, their armor etched with ash and fresh blood. Scouts had returned from the southern watch - no signs of movement except of few feral rouges. Still, I didn’t trust the stillness. Not here. Not now.
Because Tessa was gone. And I felt the hollow space in the bond like an exposed nerve.
“She’s alive,” Kael said in my mind, low and calm. “And focused. That’s why it feels distant. Not broken.”
“I know.” But knowing didn’t quiet the clawing urge to go after her.
Rylan sat sharpening his blade beside Galen and two of the new Highland warriors. Their fire crackled, a buffer against the creeping cold that had begun to gather despite the season.
They’d felt it too. The shift in the air. Like the world holding its breath.
“Any sign of Council movement?” I asked
