Behind me, someone laughs.

Deep. Low. Rough around the edges and hungry.

The kind of laugh that says, try to run. I like a chase.

I risk one glance over my shoulder.

Scarred jaw. Wild golden eyes. A grin sharp enough to ruin a woman’s better judgment.

Darian Ashclaw.

Every story I have ever heard about him comes roaring back at once.

Exile. Enforcer. Killer. Trouble with teeth.

The kind that leaves bodies cooling in alleys and walks away like the night owes him thanks.

I duck into a narrow side alley where the magic hums meaner. A cluster of thieves, kids barely grown, eyes wolf-bright, eye me like fresh meat.

I bare my teeth, flash a blade, and snarl, “Not tonight.”

They scatter.

Smart.

A reader asked what happened to Elunara’s parents, Ivy and Marcus, and the answer reaches deep into the wound before Ashen Moon. Before Elunara became the woman who walks through fire and prophecy, she was a daughter shaped by a mother who burned through fate and a father who held the line.