PROLOGUE
TOBIAS
Northern Cascades
The dead were walking, and Tobias Carswell could see them coming.
He pressed his back against the frozen oak and forced his breathing to slow. His gift had always been a burden, this ability to perceive what others could not, but tonight it felt like a curse. Through the veil that separated the living world from the spaces between, he watched the army approach. Hundreds of corpses shambled through the snow, their eyes glowing with the sickly green light of necromantic binding. Some still wore the tattered remnants of burial clothes. Others were little more than bone and sinew held together by dark magic.
Behind them, three figures in black robes directed the horde with gestures and guttural chanting. The Holloway Coven. Necromancers who had been stealing bodies from graveyards across the territory for months, building their forces in secret, preparing for a conquest that would turn the Northern Cascades into a kingdom of the dead.
Tobias had been tracking them for weeks, using his perception to follow the threads of wrongness they left in their wake. He had hoped to find their base, to bring word back to the scattered communities who might stand against them. Instead, he had found an army on the march, and he was directly in its path.
A hand closed over his mouth from behind, and Tobias nearly screamed before a low voice rumbled against his ear.
"Make a sound and we both die."
The hand released him, and Tobias spun to face the largest man he had ever seen. Tall and broad, with colorless eyes that seemed to glow faintly in the darkness and hair the color of wheat at harvest. He wore only leather and fur, no hat, no gloves, as if the bitter cold were a mild inconvenience. He moved like something born to hunt—each step deliberate, nothing wasted.
Wolfshifter. Tobias recognized the signs immediately. His family had served as intermediaries between human and supernatural communities for generations, and he knew the markers of every species that walked the hidden world.
"You're Erasmus Varen," Tobias whispered. "Alpha of the Northern Pack."
The Alpha's gaze narrowed. "And you're Tobias Carswell. The human who sees too much." His attention flicked toward the approaching horde. "You've been tracking the necromancers. My scouts have been tracking you."
"Then you know what's coming."
"I know." Erasmus's jaw tightened. "They hit our eastern settlement two nights ago. Killed everyone. Men, women, children. Then they raised the bodies and added them to their ranks." His voice remained steady, but something raw scraped beneath the words. "I've sent runners to the other packs, but they won't arrive in time. The coven is marching on our central fortress. If it falls, they'll have access to the mountainpasses. Nothing will stop them from spreading across the entire territory."
Tobias had been trained to think like a soldier. The habit took over now. "How many wolves can you field?"
"Not enough. The dead don't tire. They don't fear. And every one of my people who falls becomes another soldier in their army."
"Then we need to break the binding." Tobias turned back toward the approaching horde, letting his perception expand. The threads of necromantic energy wove through the corpses in complex patterns, all of them connecting back to the three robed figures. "The coven is controlling them directly. If we can disrupt that control, the dead will fall."
"Can you do that?"
Tobias hesitated. His gift allowed him to see the threads, to trace the flows of supernatural energy. But he had never tried to interfere with magic on this scale. The attempt might kill him. It might do nothing at all.
"I don't know," he admitted. "But I think I'm the only one who can try."
Erasmus studied him for a long moment. The sounds of the approaching army grew louder—the shuffle of dead feet through snow, the crack of frozen joints, the low moan of things that should have been at rest.
"What do you need?"
"Time. And a distraction. I have to get close to the coven while they're focused elsewhere."
"You're asking my wolves to throw themselves at an army of the dead so you can attempt something that might not work."
"Yes."
The Alpha's lips curved, more wolf than smile. "I like your honesty, Carswell. Most humans would have lied."
"Would you have believed a lie?"
"No." Erasmus turned and raised his hand. From the shadows of the forest, wolves emerged—dozens of them, their eyes reflecting the moonlight. Some were in human form, armed with silver and steel. Others had already shifted, massive creatures with fur ranging from black to gray to white. They moved in perfect silence, awaiting their Alpha's command.
"We'll buy you your time," Erasmus said. "But if I am to sacrifice members of my pack, I want your word that your bloodline will repay the debt—one of your line will be given to one of mine in marriage—without qualification or question."
