I arrived on the road already moving.
Valeria flowed up my arm and across my ribs in a cool rush, plating my joints and shaping a blade into my hand. The Grey crown above my brow steadied. The Wings of Eclipse opened behind me—two flat pages of refusal that made places I wanted touch, touch.
I took in the field in one breath.
Fence bowing but honest. Ward choir shaking but singing. Marcus on the line, scales along his jaw, spear planted like a promise. Ian above, Domain tight around the choir instead of himself—good—horns out, eyes sharp. And the thing on the ridge: a basilisk the size of a fortress, miasma leaking from every seam, demigod weight in its stare.
'Not a threat,' I decided.
"Erebus," I said.
The Lich King stepped from a shadow that didn't belong to any wall and bowed his skull. I pointed at the map hovering in my mind.
