The safehouse buzzed with movement.
Aria stood in the heart of the war room—once a quiet study now cluttered with maps, enchanted scrolls, weapons, and wounded wolves. Her silver eyes scanned every detail. The valley below was no longer safe. The Cult of the Hollow Moon had made that very clear.
"They'll attack at dawn," Solene said, her voice clipped as she drew glowing sigils onto the wooden floor. "Mara's not bluffing anymore."
Across the room, Elena stood in a circle of runes, the faint glimmer of her spirit magic coiling like smoke around her fingertips. "We can't face them in the valley. They'll have the high ground and dark magic to anchor them."
Aria nodded slowly. "Then we force them into our ground. Into our rules."
Caleb leaned over the map. "You're thinking of Moonvale Ridge?"
"The old altar site," Aria confirmed. "It's sacred to the spirit wolves. The magic there is still strong—if we use it right, we can trap them, sever their connection to the Veil."
