Darrian's POV
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The scent of dark magic was like spoiled blood and sulfur—rotten, thick, and clinging. It burned my nostrils, awakened something ancient in my wolf, something primal. The patrol had returned with no sign of Erin or Kole. Only claw marks along the trees. Long ones. Deeper than any normal wolf could make.
I stood at the edge of the western clearing, the torches flickering behind me, warriors positioned in a crescent along the treeline. Heather had stayed back at my request. I couldn’t risk her—not now. Not until I understood what we were facing.
Ronan approached, his expression drawn. "We've doubled the perimeter. No sign of it since that last glimpse."
"It's watching us," I said, eyes narrowed at the trees. "Waiting. Testing our defenses."
"You think it’s alone?"
