Chapter 31 The Hunter Meets The Haunted

• The night was thick with mist, a shroud that clung to the trees and muted even the faint glow of the moon. Maelrik crouched at the forest’s edge, fingers pressed to the cold earth, eyes narrowed. The lingering crackle of energy beneath his palm was faint, almost imperceptible to the untrained, but to him it sang like a whisper on the wind.
• He had saw it hours ago—a surge of power so sudden and raw that it had jolted even Tharion’s dark wards across Dellwyn. Lucas had made his move. The boy’s defiance was no longer rumor or suspicion. it was a flare sent into the night, a spark of rebellion strong enough to leave traces that only a hunter like Maelrik could follow.
• “They’re heading east,” Maelrik muttered, rising slowly, his long black cloak brushing against the wet grass.