Dawn’s first light bled pale gold across Fenris’s siege camp. Morning mist curled through rows of glinting trebuchets and battered shields, turning metal to molten fire. Sera Hudson stood beside a row of sharpened spears, feeling the bond’s steady thrum—Cain’s cautious resolve rippling through her veins. Soldiers stirred in quilted cloaks; scouts moved between tents like silent wolves.
A horn blast shattered the quiet. A messenger clad in Alder’s blue-and-silver livery burst into the council tent, breath ragged. “Alpha Elvis!” he gasped, extending a sealed parchment. Cain strode forward, gauntlet tapping impatience against the map table.
Sera slipped closer as Cain broke the royal seal. He read the letter, jaw tightening with each line. Finally he snapped it shut. “Trade Sera Hudson for the withdrawal of your siege engines at Dawn Gorge,” he translated, voice low. “No negotiation.”