The battlefield stretched before them, scorched by flame and slick with blood. Smoke curled into the night sky, dimming the glow of the moon that tried in vain to light their path. Aria stood at the center of it all, her chest heaving, her fingers clenched around the Flameborn Crown that pulsed with a dangerous, living heat. It was both salvation and damnation, and she knew that what she chose now would decide the fate of every soul still standing.
The triplets surrounded her like a fortress of flesh and will. Dorian's dark eyes burned with unrelenting determination, Tobias's lips moved in low strategy, calculating even in chaos, and Marcus stood like a wall, his body bloodied yet unyielding.
"Aria," Dorian growled, his voice hoarse. "It's time."
