Chapter 71

• The morning air in Xander’s territory felt unnaturally tense, as if the world itself anticipated the storm brewing on the horizon. Amara stood at the edge of the stronghold, her gaze fixed on the forest below. Scouts had been returning throughout the night with fragmented reports—whispers of Rita’s movements, murmurs of alliances being forged in the shadows. Each piece of information painted an increasingly grim picture.
• The heavy silence was broken by Asher’s voice as he approached. “Got another one,” he said, holding out a scroll. “This one came from the northern packs. Rita’s making moves.”
• Amara took the scroll, her heart sinking as she scanned its contents. It was the third report that day detailing strange gatherings of rogue werewolves, witches, and creatures thought to have vanished long ago. Unlike the sporadic skirmishes they’d dealt with before, these were organized. Coordinated.