The air outside the packhouse felt heavy that night. Clouds gathered above us, thick and gray, even though the weather had been clear all week. A storm was coming — not a normal one, but the kind that followed dark energy.
Asher stood beside me as we packed our gear. His movements were calm, but I could feel his tension through the bond. Gage was quieter than usual, his eyes dark and thoughtful. Arlo moved quickly, checking weapons and energy stones, his expression serious.
We didn’t talk much. We didn’t need to. Everyone knew what we were about to face.
Arlo had traced the ley line again after sunset. The energy led to the ridge — a rocky stretch of forest near the edge of pack land. It was old ground, full of stories about magic and blood. The kind of place my parents would love.
We
