The cold wind over the northern cliffs of Rhogart Continent whipped through the ragged black cloaks of the Bloodburners as they crouched among the jagged stones. The distant plains below spread out in a gray, endless expanse, dotted by the pale silhouettes of countless werewolves, all tense and waiting. And in the very center, the one man Asher had been waiting to destroy.
Derek Sterling.
Rowena's crimson eyes narrowed as she scanned the scene, her long raven hair drifting around her face. She rested a gauntleted hand on the basalt outcrop before her, her voice low and taut with suspicion.
"I don't feel good about this," she murmured, her breath turning to mist. "He wouldn't challenge the Moon Guardian like this unless he's confident he can survive the full force of every werewolf clan in Rhogart. And he shouldn't be able to. Not with the few hundred men he brought with him."
