The courtyard was drowning.
Not in silence.
Not in fear.
In war.
Selene moved through it like a blade.
Every breath burned. Every muscle screamed. But she didn't slow.
She couldn't.
Not when the lines were breaking.
Not when Blackclaw was being pushed back step by step.
"Hold formation!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos.
But formation was becoming a luxury.
The invading wolves were relentless—rotating in waves, pressing forward with brutal precision. Every time Blackclaw pushed one group back, another filled the gap.
"They're cycling!" Rowan called from her right.
Selene's mind clicked instantly.
"Rotating fresh fighters," she said. "They're conserving strength."
Kai skidded into position beside her, breathing hard, blood streaked across his jaw.
"That's not fair," he snapped. "Who fights like that?"
Selene's eyes hardened.
"Someone who plans to win."
