KAEL'S POV
Blood misted the air. Fires still burned. But our wolves were regrouping. The enemy was retreating—at least for now.
I carried her through the clearing, past the corpses and claw marks and shattered wards. As I crossed the threshold of the sacred stones, I felt it again—the bond.
Not broken, it changed.
Fused into something else.
Ayla moaned softly in my arms. Her fingers gripped my shirt.
But the last thing I saw before we vanished into the trees—was the shadow forming behind us.
Tall. Antlered. Smiling.
Watching.
The air stank of ozone and magic gone wrong.
I laid Ayla down on the stone floor of the warded tent, just beyond the sacred circle. Her skin glowed faintly under the dim lanterns. The pulse beneath her throat was weak, fluttering. Like a thread pulled too taut. I pressed a damp cloth to her forehead, forcing my hands to stay steady.
"You burned too much," I whispered. "You gave them everything."
She didn't stir.
