Cast into the Frozen Wastes

The northern pass was a desolate corridor of jagged black granite and biting frost. By two in the morning, a blinding blizzard had descended from the jagged peaks of the Frostfang Mountains, erasing the trails beneath two feet of fresh, powdery snow.

Selene pulled her thin wool cloak tighter around her trembling shoulders. Her boots were soaked through, her toes numb, and every breath burned like inhaled glass inside her lungs.

"Come on," she whispered through chattering teeth, pressing her palms against her frozen thighs to force another step forward. "Just keep moving. Don't stop."

Deep in her chest, beneath the numbness, something ancient and wild stirred. For years, the Silvercrest healers had mocked her as 'dormant'—a defective wolf who could not shift or hear the call of the pack mind. But in this savage cold, far from the suffocating borders of Jackson's territory, a subtle pulse of silver heat began to hum behind her ribs. It felt like moonlight trapped beneath flesh.

Behind her, the low, guttural snarl of beasts shattered the howling wind.

Selene froze, her pulse spiking into a frantic drumbeat.

Through the veil of swirling snow, three pairs of yellow, bloodshot eyes emerged. They were rogue wolves—massive, mangy brutes with scarred muzzles and rabid saliva dripping from yellowed fangs. Exiled outcasts who preyed on solitary travelers along the borderlands.

The largest rogue, a scarred gray beast the size of a black bear, stepped forward, his tongue running over sharp teeth as he caught her scent.

"A female stray..." the rogue's guttural pack voice rasped through the wind. "Fresh meat cast out by Silvercrest. She smells sweet."

Selene backed away until her spine collided with the icy cliff face. There was nowhere left to run.

She reached down, pulling a six-inch hunting knife from the sheath inside her boot—the only possession she had managed to take from her quarters. Her fingers were stiff with frost, but her grip was iron.

"Stay back," she warned, raising the blade, her hazel eyes flashing with desperate fury. "Come any closer and I'll spill your guts onto the snow."

The gray rogue let out a barking, mocking laugh. "Fierce little bitch. Tear her legs off first, boys. Save the throat for last."

The two flanking wolves lunged simultaneously, claws kicking up plumes of blinding snow as they launched themselves at her throat.