The forest was unnaturally still, as if holding its breath. He could hear nothing—no wind rustling through the leaves, no nocturnal creatures scurrying in the underbrush—just the distant, shallow rasp of his breath and his heart pounding in his chest.
There was no raw aggression, no chaotic energy. These attackers were controlled, and precise—trained. Not like the wild, unpredictable dragon hunters and smugglers Sky was used to.
The clouds thickened above, blotting out the moonlight entirely. The forest plunged into darkness, but Sky's dragon vision cut through it easily. He watched the attackers move closer, circling him.
"Val," he called through their bond, his mental voice strained. "Where are you?"
Static answered him, the connection faint and broken.
