So it began—Dican's hunt under his mate's command.
He moved with quiet steps through the ruins of the fallen city, the sky above still choked with the silver shapes of Grayling ships. They hovered ominously, blinking with slow pulses of light, casting long shadows over the hollow buildings and skeletal remains of streets.
Dican looked up, his golden eyes narrowing.
He could feel the tremor in the air, the subtle vibrations of the ships communicating above. But he wasn't foolish—he didn't have the power to strike them yet. Not when they were clustered in the air like vultures, each brimming with weapons and swarms of their kind waiting to pour down.
If he provoked one, they would descend on him in a storm. Their weapons weren't to be underestimated. Their numbers were too large. Not yet. Not like this.
He clenched his fists, then slowly exhaled, letting go of the tension.
