THIRD PERSON POV
The forest surrounding Hopeland lay buried beneath snow so clean it felt like a Christmas movie.
White draped every branch, every rock, every hollow between the trees, smoothing the land into something deceptively peaceful. The kind of quiet that only existed right before something catastrophic broke it apart.
They were close.
Not close enough for the wolves to scent them—not yet—but close enough that the Vampire King could feel the pressure of the territory pressing back against him, a low hum in his bones. The pack lands radiated power. Old power. Dragon-touched power.
It irritated him.
He stood at the edge of a clearing carved into the forest like a wound, his boots sinking slightly into the snow. Around him, his army waited.
Vampires—some old, some newly turned—
