The Northern Veil was alive with whispers, the forest humming with a tension that felt almost tangible, as if the air itself held its breath. Selara crouched atop a jagged rock, silver veins tracing intricate patterns across her arms and neck, glowing faintly under the wan light of the moon. Every shadow moved with purpose, every rustle in the trees a warning, every distant howl a reminder that Kaelen was orchestrating his next assault. She could feel the pulse of Nightborne energy within her, a rhythm like molten silver, and it thrummed in harmony with her heartbeat, impatient and demanding acknowledgment.
