*Julian*

The fire throws jagged shadows over the clearing, turning the snow around us orange and gold. I sit on a fallen log, mug full of whiskey in hand. Mason sits to my right, scanning the tree line. Across from me, Lorna, my chief alchemist, looks over her notes, muttering under her breath.

“They’re certainly clever,” she says without looking up. “The ones you saw yesterday at dawn. They move like nothing I’ve catalogued. They seem to be part bat, part human, with wings that seem too large for the rest of their anatomy.”

My Beta, Mason, leans forward. “The real question is, if we can’t track them, how do...