Witch Hunter

*Lazlo*

By the time we reach Virechant, the moon is high and the scent of cedar and pine cling to the folds of my cloak. My warriors ride behind me, silent and worn, their pride bruised. Even the night feels unsettled, like the wind is listening, waiting. I dismount at the gates and toss the reins to a stablehand, who flinches at my expression.

I don’t bother washing off the dust or blood. I shove the war room doors open with both hands, the heavy oak slamming against the stone walls as I stride inside. My father looks up from the map-strewn table. His gaze sharpens when he sees me.

“What happened?” Alpha Lucian asks, already sensing the answer won’t be simple.

“They came for us,” I say. My voice is low and calm, but I can feel the fury thrumming in my chest. “The coven in the Calliope Forest.”

My father straightens. “Tell me everything.”

I start with the phantom voices. The young warrior who heard his mother screaming, though was too far away for him to hear. The way the spell spread