The scream split the heavens.
It was a sound torn from the depths of the old world — primal, wrong. The entire crowd at the Circle of Flames froze. Even the seasoned warriors among them flinched, instinctively baring teeth or gripping weapons.
And then — silence.
Too silent.
Even the wind stilled.
Aria's flame flickered unnaturally. Tobias stepped forward first, putting himself slightly in front of her, eyes scanning the ridgelines.
"They're already here," Kael muttered, unsheathing both twin daggers.
Rowan swore and dropped into a crouch, his grin vanishing. "Incoming."
From the jagged edge of the cliffs, black smoke erupted — then shapes moved through it. Not wolves.
Not humans.
Something in between.
Twisted silhouettes of former warriors, their bodies marred by black runes, their mouths stitched shut by cords of dark sinew. Their eyes glowed a sickly green, their limbs jerking like puppets.
"Flamebound revenants," Elara hissed.
