The dawn barely touched the horizon, yet the Blackclaw estate already pulsed with tension. Smoke from last night's fires still lingered, curling in ghostly spirals around the scorched stone walls, and the smell of iron and ash hung heavy in the air. Selara crouched on the edge of the western tower, silver veins glowing faintly beneath her skin as she surveyed the grounds below. Every shadow, every flicker of movement was magnified in her heightened senses, every instinct screaming that Kaelen's hand lingered closer than before.
Draven stepped beside her, silent, predatory, yet exuding a calm that both grounded and unnerved her. Gold eyes scanned the perimeter, sharp and calculating. "He's here," he murmured, voice barely above the whisper of the wind. "He's testing our defenses. Waiting. Watching."
Selara's chest rose and fell steadily, silver light flickering along her veins. "Then we'll be ready," she said, voice low, resolute. "He won't find weakness. Not today."
