The summer solstice arrived in the Beastworld not with a blaze of glorious sunlight, but with a suffocating, weeping shroud of rain.
Usually, the longest day of the year was a sacred festival in the eastern territories, a time when the volcanic peaks burned their brightest and the dragons took to the skies in massive, celebratory flights.
Today, the skies were completely empty. The entire continent was draped in a heavy, suffocating mantle of mourning.
The Matriarch was gone.
In the agonizing days following her sudden disappearance, the Vanguard pack had desperately tried to rip the world apart to find her. Tanith had pushed her ancient, serpentine tracking instincts to the absolute breaking point, slithering through every shadow and crevice of the mountains.
