It was the deep of Caliban’s twilight, the forest alive with whispers and the distant howls of the Great Beasts. Lioness El’Jonson stood at the tree line, her cloak drawn tight against the damp air, a young squire at her sidewith his hand on his sword hilt. The Order had sent him to her for his first hunt, and she had made him her squire.

“Still your breathing,” she said without looking at him, her emerald eyes fixed on the shadows ahead. “The beasts nest close to here.”

A branch snapped in the dark. The boy flinched. Lioness finally turned, her expression unreadable beneath her hood as she drew her sword.

“Sword. Now!”