The Flameborn crown burned between Aria's palms, its jagged edges dripping with power as though it were alive. The battlefield around her was silent for the first time in hours, the lull unsettling. Smoke curled from ruined stone, the scent of blood clinging to the air like chains. Dorian, Tobias, and Marcus stood a few paces away, their bodies tense, eyes flicking between her and the looming shadows that pressed closer with every heartbeat.
"Aria…" Tobias's voice was low, careful, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile hold she had over herself. "You need to let it rest."
"I can't." Her voice cracked. The crown pulsed in her hands, each throb sinking deeper into her veins. Her wolf strained under the weight of its magic, claws raking at her insides. "It wants me."
