The moon hung low and swollen with crimson light, casting eerie shadows over the trees as Aria stood motionless, watching the army assemble below.
The Cult of the Hollow Moon.
Hundreds of wolves. Cloaked figures in ceremonial armor. Magic humming through the valley like static before a storm.
Aria turned away from the ridge, her heart pounding like a war drum.
"They're not attacking yet," Elena said, wrapping her arms around herself. Her eyes were still lined with the faintest silver glow, but her voice was steadier now.
"They don't need to," Solene murmured, stepping forward with her staff glowing faintly. "This is a warning. A declaration. They want fear to do the first part of their work for them."
Aria's jaw clenched. "They won't have it."
Caleb approached, one hand pressed against his ribs. He hadn't fully healed from Mara's assault. "If they strike at dawn, we have hours. Maybe less."
"We need to prepare," Elena said. "Wards. Traps. Anything that can slow them."
