Sage

The elders’ compound was a cold, gray fortress buried in the pines, the kind of place that smelled like old wood and older grudges. I strode through the heavy oak doors twenty minutes early, expecting another fruitless debate about patrols and scent trails gone cold.

Instead, the chamber crackled with something sharper—anticipation.

Lira Voss stood at the head of the table, arms crossed, eyes bright with the kind of fire that only came from being one step closer to vengeance. The rest of the council sat in tense silence, files and photographs spread out like cards in a high-stakes game.

She didn’t waste time on greetings.

“We have a...