KAEL'S POV
Dawn hadn't broken yet, but the light had started to bruise the horizon—thin veins of gold and ash spreading through the night. Every wolf in the camp felt it, that fragile shift in the air when waiting became unbearable.
Steel whispered. Armor clicked. The army stirred.
I stood on the ridge overlooking the frost valley, hands resting against the cold hilt of my blade. Below us, the mist curled around the trees like smoke from a dying fire. The enemy was down there. I could smell them—iron, blood, and the faint rot of scentless magic.
And beneath all of it, faint as memory, Ayla's scent pulsed like a heartbeat.
Behind me, Beta Thorne approached, steps careful. "The scouts report movement to the east. They're circling us."
I didn't turn. "How many?"
"Two legions, maybe three. They're masking their trail, but they didn't expect us to hold the ridge."
"They'll know soon."
"Yes, Alpha King."
Thorne hesitated, then said quietly, "The healer's awake."
