Clouds rolled in from the east—dark, fast, and heavy—like a sheet of ash stretching across the morning sky. The wind howled unnaturally, carrying with it a sound that made the hairs on the back of Valerian's neck stand up: a distant hum, like the groan of something ancient moving beneath the earth.
Selene was the first to react. She shot up from her meditative position beneath the old cedar tree, her cloak fluttering violently in the wind. "That's not natural," she said sharply. "Something is coming."
Kael squinted toward the eastern hills. "A storm?"
"No," Lira said, already reaching for her blades. "A presence."
Valerian moved toward the edge of the camp, where several of the newer recruits had already dropped what they were doing and stared at the sky. The storm clouds weren't just gathering—they were twisting. Forming an unnatural spiral that hovered above the ruined ridge they had scouted only days ago.
The air turned heavy. Metallic. Like blood on the tongue.
