The first rays of dawn painted the horizon in bruised shades of red and gold. Evelyn stood at the head of her army, her cloak fluttering in the wind, the scent of steel and ash filling her lungs. The ground beneath her boots trembled with the restless steps of wolves ready for war. Every heartbeat thudded in rhythm with the war drums echoing faintly in the distance.
Behind her, hundreds of Ravenclaw warriors waited—eyes sharp, fangs bared, armor gleaming beneath the pale light. They were tired, battered, and grieving, yet none turned away. Fji's forces had taken too much already. Today, Evelyn vowed, would be the day the fire turned back on him.
George rode up beside her, his face grim. "Scouts report movement from the eastern ridge. Fji's army is spread thin there, but they're using human cannons and spellfire. We'll need precision to break through."
