His eyes sharpen immediately, his alpha instincts snapping into place. “Where is it, then?”
I shake my head slowly, still piecing together the fragments of what I witnessed in my vision. “It’s not here,” I say. “Not anywhere near our valley. That's why it's been impossible to find.”
Relief flickers briefly across his face before curiosity replaces it. “Then where is it?”
“It is a valley, but not ours,” I explain, closing my eyes as I summon the memory again. “There are fierce, sharp cliffs, a river, and an old, abandoned sawmill in the distance. It’s far from here, Heinrich. I don’t know where it is.”
His brows knit together. “Far enough that the demons would need a network to move through the human world before reaching Bitterroot…” he mutters.
I nod slowly. “Exactly.”
Heinrich's eyes narrow as he slowly and thoughtfully nods his head, digesting that this means something important.
The demons’ immediate foothold near the valley has been broken. The warehouse raid destroyed their weapons supply, and the portal itself isn’t even close enough to launch direct attacks without help.
Heinrich exhales slowly. “That explains why the valley feels quiet.”
“There’s more,” I add softly, and his attention snaps back to me. “I saw someone else in the vision.”
“Who?”
“A witch,” I say. “But not just any witch.”
Recognition flashes across his expression before I even finish the sentence. “The third luna.”
I nod. “She was standing near the portal with wolves behind her,” I explained. “Iron Breath wolves.”
Heinrich’s lips part slightly. “Conan’s mate.”
“Yes.”
For a moment, neither of us speaks. Then, Heinrich’s expression shifts into something far more serious.
“We need to tell the council about your vision,” he says before pressing a kiss to my lips and helping me off the desk.
***
The council chamber fills quickly the next morning.
Word spreads fast when a vision is involved. Heinrich stands beside me at the long table, his hand resting firmly at thesmall of my back as I explain everything I saw. The cliffs. The river. The portal itself. Even the sawmill.
Amos taps rapidly on his tablet as I describe the landscape. “There are only a handful of valleys that match that description,” he mutters.
“There’s only one close by, and there have not been any reports of demon activity there. Although we wouldn’t know, because the packs out there aren’t exactly friendly.” My father-in-law—Mortimer—leans forward slightly. “Perhaps they feel threatened by us.”
Low murmurs ripple across the room.
Damian leans back in his chair with a slow grin. “Well…” he begins dryly, “perhaps it’s time to reach out to them and find out if they know about this sawmill. Or about demons.”
Conan crosses his arms, clearly processing the information. “And my mate?” he asks quietly.
“Maybe you’ll find her near that portal,” I tell him. “She’s already there. Maybe not physically, but in spirit, or energy. But I think she's what will lead us to it.”
Something fierce flickers in his eyes, like destiny finally clicking into place.
My gaze drifts toward Heinrich as the council continues discussing logistics and patrol strategies, but for the first time since arriving in the valley, the tension feels different.
Lighter.
