ELENA'S POV The wind inside the narrow canyon didn't just blow—it howled, cutting through the rocky fissures like a dying beast. Snow drifted lazily through the air, dusting the dark gray shale walls that towered seventy feet above our heads. This was the exact bottleneck where old King Richard wanted to bury our army. But I hadn't brought the 3,000 Broken Fang warriors. Instead, I crouched on a high, frosted ridge overlooking the canyon path, completely shrouded in a thick, dense layer of my mastered shadow magic. Beside me, Nikolai stood like a silent iron pillar, his silver eyes tracking the movement down below. We had brought only a small, elite strike team of twelve shadow warriors—just enough to disrupt the vanguard without triggering Richard's demolition trap. Down in the canyon floor, the rhythmic, heavy thud of military boots began to echo against the stone walls. A column of eighty heavily armed Bloodmoon soldiers marched into the pass. They wore the distinct, deep
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