Nova’s POV
The journey to Shadowfang territory was slow and tense. Every rustle of leaves, every distant howl, put us on edge.
The warriors moved in near silence, their weapons ready, their gazes sharp.
The moon hung low in the sky, its pale light casting long shadows across the forest.
Drystan stayed close to me, his presence steady, though I could sense the storm raging beneath his calm exterior.
Neither of us spoke much. The weight of what we might find—and what it could mean for Liora’s sacrifice—hung heavily between us.
Astrid and Killian led the group, their eyes scanning the path ahead.
The Rogue King’s forces had fortified Shadowfang, and the closer we got, the more we felt his presence.
We reached the outskirts of Shadowfang territory just before dawn.
The air was thick with the scent of rogues and something darker—something I couldn’t quite place.
“We’ll rest here,” Killian said, his voice low but firm. “Drystan, take a small group and scout ahead. Report back with anything you find.”
Drystan nodded, his expression grim. “Come on,” he said to the warriors nearest him.
As they disappeared into the trees, Astrid sat beside me, her gaze distant. “This place feels wrong,” she said quietly.
I nodded. “It’s like the forest itself is holding its breath.”
She didn’t respond, but her silence spoke volumes.
Drystan returned hours later, his face pale and his jaw tight.
“We found their camp,” he said, his voice low but steady. “The Rogue King has more wolves than we thought. Rogues, Pack wolves… even pups. He’s training them to fight.”
A ripple of anger ran through the group. Pups. The Rogue King’s cruelty knew no bounds.
“That’s not all,” Drystan continued.
He held up a scrap of cloth, its edges torn and bloodied. The symbol of the Rogue King was emblazoned on it, but what caught my attention was the faint glow clinging to the fabric.
“The Amulet,” I whispered, my stomach twisting.
Drystan nodded. “He’s using it. Or at least trying to.”
Later that night, we set up camp a safe distance from the Rogue King’s forces.
The warriors were on edge, their movements tense as they prepared for the inevitable confrontation.
I sat by the fire, Liora’s journal in my hands. The hidden letter I’d found haunted me, its words playing over and over in my mind.
The Amulet… it’s more than just a weapon. It’s tied to a bloodline, one that must be protected at all costs.
“What are you thinking?” Drystan asked, sitting beside me.
I hesitated before answering. “Liora’s letter—it’s connected to the Amulet somehow. She said it’s tied to a bloodline. That means it’s not just a relic. It’s a key.”
His wolves howled in response, the sound chilling in its unity.
“We have to stop him,” Killian said, his voice hard.
“But how?” Astrid asked. “We can’t face him head-on. Not yet.”
“We find Rowena,” I said, the words slipping out before I could think them through.
Killian and Drystan turned to me, their expressions grim.
“If she’s still alive, she’ll know how to stop this,” I continued. “She’s the one who took the Amulet. She has to know its limits.”
“She’s the reason we’re here,” Drystan said coldly. “If we find her, she doesn’t walk away this time.”
I didn’t argue. Deep down, I knew he was right.
As night fell, we retreated to our camp to plan our next move. The Rogue King’s forces were too strong to face directly, but we couldn’t let him continue using the Amulet.
Killian called a meeting, his expression resolute. “We divide into two groups. One tracks Rowena. The other stays here, keeping an eye on the Rogue King’s movements. We strike when we’re ready.”
Drystan nodded. “I’ll lead the group tracking Rowena.”
Astrid placed a hand on Killian’s arm. “And we’ll stay here. If the Rogue King makes a move, we’ll be ready.”
Killian’s gaze swept over us, his eyes hard but determined. “This is our only chance. We stop Rowena, we stop the Rogue King. No matter what it takes.”
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