In the high valleys of Brackenmoor, where the mist clung to the hills like damp wool and the grass grew unnaturally black, the shepherds tended flocks that never needed shearing. Because their sheep shed

The last lioness in the valley had no name. The rangers called her Shani, meaning "scar," for the ragged mark across her flank—a relic from the poachers who had taken her pride. Ten years had

In the gaslit labyrinth of Veilwick Borough, where the streets rearranged themselves each night, only one man could navigate the shifting alleys—Theodor Finch, the last lamplighter. His lantern didn’t