The restored valley was enveloped in darkness. Like vigilant eyes, fires were scattered around the new barricade. The dead had already been thrown to the sky on pyres that still blazed crimson on the ridge, while the wounded slept beneath rudimentary shelters.Mason was slumped over a fire that scarcely warmed the old wolf's bones when Heath discovered him in the partially constructed longhouse. As if the answers were hidden in the embers, Savannah sat close by on a bench, knees pulled to her chest, gazing into the flames. Like frost on steel, her white-gold hair caught the light.When Heath's shadow fell across Mason, he didn't raise his head.With a rasp, the elder said, "Sit, boy." "For this, you'll want to be off your feet."Heath leaned back against a post and lowered himself to the packed-earth floor. Savannah's red eyes darted to him and back again, yet her hand moved across the bench till it touched his shoulder—a tiny touch, a profound meaning.Mason jabbed a burnt stick into

At first light, the hunting party, twelve lean but eager wolves under the leadership of Roan, Scarlett and Garrick's youngest son, left. Elk had been lured down from the high ridges by the new grass in the valley (fat, slow, perfect). Crimson Howl dared to hope for full bellies for the first time in years. With Savannah by his side, Heath watched them disappear into the tree line. She had not slept again, and the tether between them hummed with restless energy. "They'll be alright," he assured her. She didn't respond. Her red eyes continued to stare at the woods. The yelling began three hours later. First to emerge from the trees was Roan, who was half-shifted, his face torn, and his throat dripping with blood. The others (eleven, seven, and four) followed him, running as if the moon were chasing them. With her left arm hanging uselessly and her bone visible through torn muscle, Scarlett hobbled to the back. Her short, gore-stained sword was all that was left of her bow. Before

Cold starlight enveloped the valley. All of the palisade's lamps had been extinguished, leaving just the dim red light from the partially destroyed longhouse to flow over the crowded ground.Fifty wolves crammed shoulder to shoulder within. They gathered in a rough circle around the center fire pit tonight; there were no benches. The chart of the river, the crypt entrance, the great hall, and the escape routes that Heath had burned days before now resurfaced on the dirt floor, etched with a charred stick. With his coat off and his shirt sleeves pushed up, Heath stood at the head, his scars gleaming like war paint in the firelight. To his right, Savannah was standing with her eyes shining soft crimson and covered in black wolf pelt. With her blade already slung across her back and her arm still rigid, Scarlett leaned on his left. Behind them, Vance paced restlessly like a hurricane in a prison. Heath didn't speak louder. He didn't have to. "Two nights," he started. "New moon. No mer

They emerged from the tunnel into a cavern that shouldn't be under a river. Water trickled from a black ceiling. Everything was bathed in a corpse-green glow from bioluminescent moss. Iron and ancient dead tasted in the air. The altar stood in the middle, on an elevated dais of black basalt.And the Syphon Stone at its core. Obsidian etched into twisted veins that glowed with sickly green light, it was taller than a man. As if the stone had a heartbeat, every pulse rippled across the underground walls. Like roots, thin strands of shadow, not shadow, but living power, spread out from the crystal, sunk into the stone floor, and disappeared into the night. When Savannah noticed it, she came to a complete halt. Heath could feel the tether screaming between them. Her knees gave way. Before she could touch the ground, he grabbed her. Her voice was rough as she whimpered, "It's... drinking me." "Even right now. It's pulling on me. As though savoring her closeness, the crystal surged b

Like shattered teeth, they were sent out into the darkness by the river crypt. Ninety-nine wolves, half-drowned, wet, and bleeding, stumbled onto the northern side. The entrance fell away behind them in a thunderclap of black water and stone. As if Beau's passing had snapped some unseen tether, the woodland that had pursued them on the way in was now hushed.Heath came last. Savannah's white-gold hair was covered in river muck and blood, and her head was limp against his shoulder as he held her in his arms. His own legs only moved on instinct. It was like pulling air through shattered glass with each breath. Black veins were already creeping forth over Beau's skin, and the cursed blade he had buried in his side, just below the ribs, burned colder than ice. Grim-faced, Scarlett and Vance stood on either side of him. "Don't stop," Heath snarled. "Don't stop until you reach the valley." They shifted. Miles and lives were lost on the return trip, which was a horror. The corruption