The morning sun broke through the mist with a dull, almost reluctant glow, casting long shadows across the fortified encampment. The clatter of swords, the stomp of boots, and the murmured drills of soldiers filled the air with the pulse of war. Yet there was something else this morning—a shift.
Heiko felt it the moment he stepped outside his tent. The breeze carried unease, like the hush before a storm. His beast stirred uneasily inside him, hackles raised—not from enemy threat, but from something else. As he walked toward the central command station, the low hum of conversation drew his attention.
There—flanked by a group of senior commanders, his back straight, posture loose but authoritative—stood Lord Peter Nightshade.
Heiko’s steps slowed as his dark eyes narrowed. Peter was alrea
