The wind was thick with smoke and magic.
Aria stood at the edge of the battlefield, her fingers trembling as they clutched the hilt of the dagger Kael had forged for her—blood-etched with runes that pulsed in rhythm with the beat of her heart. The crown upon her head hummed with ancient power, now fully awakened after centuries of slumber. The Flameborn's legacy thrummed in her bones, alive and alert.
The ruins of Elaris Keep smoldered behind her. Broken stone and scorched banners littered the ground, a silent testament to the war that had erupted between the Hollow Fang and the united front of packs that had finally risen to challenge them. And at the heart of it all—her bond with the Triplet Alphas.
Dorian's bloodied knuckles tightened around his sword as he strode toward her. "We can't hold the southern wall without reinforcements."
