†Noca's POV†
My mind was in a disarray after what I had heard. The words of the dying warrior still clung to my thoughts like claws dragging through flesh. They echoed in my skull long after his final breath left him, long after his eyes rolled back and his chest stilled beneath my hands.
He had been broken, ripped open by something not entirely wolf. His wounds were too deep, as if whoever or whatever had attacked him wanted to send a message rather than simply kill. The scent of it had been wrong, twisted with something ancient and wild. Even as the healers tried to keep him breathing, I could already see death hovering over him like a shadow waiting to claim what was left.
But before he slipped away, he had said things that should not have been possible.
Things that made the blood in my veins run cold.
