I remember the first time I saw her—standing atop the cliff under the blood moon, silver-streaked hair whipping in the wind, amber eyes locking onto mine like I was already dead. I had spent years hunting her kind, trained since childhood to hate the howls in the dark. My father’s last words echoed in my skull: 'Never show mercy to a wolf.'

But when I finally cornered Kaela Stormfang in the ruins of Veyrn Hollow, something broke inside me. She didn’t snarl. Didn’t attack. She looked at me—and spoke into my mind: You’re being used.

Then the ground split open. Shadows clawed up, dragging two of my men screaming into the abyss. She moved fast, knocking me down as a tendril lashed overhead. 'They’re not after me,' she growled, gripping my arm. 'They’re after you. Your bloodline holds the key to the Hollow Veil.'

Now we’re running through the frozen woods, hunted by both our kinds. The air crackles with tension—between us, between every breath. She saved me. Why?

She turns suddenly, pressing me against a tree, her body shielding mine. 'We don’t have time for trust,' she whispers, voice low. 'But we have this: if we don’t stop Morgath, there won’t be a world left to hate each other in.'

Her lips brush my ear. 'So, hunter… will you fight beside me? Or die like the rest?'