Thornak stood at the tall window of his war chamber, his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes burning with anger.
He had already begun searching for the traitor the Guardian had warned of, but now it seemed the sorcerer had moved first. War was no longer a distant threat, it was already at his gates.
"Reports from the eastern border just came," Kael said. "Four more outposts hit. Same pattern... burned wagons, slaughtered scouts. There were no tracks or scent trails."
"Any signs of blood magic?" Thornak asked, turning to face them.
Ruvan nodded. "Yes. The same as before. The earth at the site burned, and even the ravens avoid the skies. We believe the sorcerer is pressing closer."
"According to the reports, they moved like shadows," Dain added grimly. "Some form of magic cloaks them."
"And the villagers?"
"Some were taken alive," Dain admitted. "Mostly the young. Same as before."
Thornak's jaw tightened. "What of the southern line?"
