AYLA'S POV
The village had gone quiet, but not with peace.
Snow whispered through the burned pines, and smoke curled from the last embers of the ward fires. Inside the old council hall, Kael and I stood over a rough map of the Frostfangs, its edges weighted with stones to keep the cold wind from curling it up.
The bond thrummed between us, a steady heat in my chest, but under it coiled unease. The last battle had left its mark—I could feel it in my veins, a faint thread of cold like a splinter of shadow waiting to be pulled free.
Rylan crouched near the fire, knives spread across his knee, each one gleaming faintly from the ichor he'd just cleaned away.
"She's moving faster now," Rylan said, voice low. "Cassia's not building armies anymore—she's infecting. Hitting packs, leaving thralls behind to rot the trust from the inside out."
