The air in Nightveil turned bitter before the first scream was heard. Wind carried the scent of scorched soil and burning iron—wrong, unnatural. Zarek stood at the edge of the high stone terrace that overlooked the valley, his silver eyes narrowed to slits. He had felt it before the scouts returned—something old, cruel, and calculated.
"The children," Elias Hale said grimly, appearing beside him. "They've taken them."
Zarek's fists clenched. "From where?"
"Redbrush. Embertrail. Even the frostline clans. All allied packs."
They were targeting the most vulnerable. The future.
The war council was summoned within the hour. Warriors, advisors, and bond-forged kin filed into the circular chamber carved into the mountain's spine. Flames danced in lantern sconces as tension thickened the air like fog.
Veyra entered last, wrapped in a dark cloak lined with wolf fur, her bare feet silent on the stone. Her eyes—glacial, wild, resolute—met Zarek's across the table.
"You already know what I'm goin
