Nila leaned over the shoulder of former Luna Evelyn, her fingers pressing flat against the cold grain of the oak desk as her eyes moved down the dense, handwritten columns of the master registry. The parchment was old, smelling of sheep oil and dried gall-ink, its edges yellowed by the damp mountain air of the northern peaks.

Kaelen stood on the opposite side of the desk, his massive frame perfectly still, though his hazel eyes followed every movement of Nila’s hand. Marcus remained by the bolted door, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his head tilted slightly as if he were listening to the muffled sounds of the vanguard...