Rowan's POV
The black column of smoke spiraling up from Scarlet Howlers territory made Rowan's blood run cold. His boots pounded against the earth as denial warred with grim certainty in his chest. Hardy wouldn't dare push this far. But even as the thought formed, Rowan knew better.
He sprinted across the ridge toward Duskwood, commands crackling through the mind-link. Nick and his advance team should have reached the territory by now. They had to be holding the line.
The orange glow bleeding across Duskwood's rooftops appeared too quickly. Smoke hung thick in the air, carrying the acrid taste of burning resin and scorched grain. Deep explosions rumbled through the forest, sharp and deliberate. These weren't accidents.
This was war.
Allen had been right all along. Hardy had come for them.
Ash swirled across the courtyard stones as Rowan reached the outer perimeter. Screams echoed from the lower corridors, cutting through the chaos. He seized a passing guard by the arm.
