They traveled by night Alonso, Eira, Kara, and a band of
freed warriors.Draventh lay weeks away across the plains, its old towers dim in memory.Rumors reached them first:
The kingdom had fallen under the rule of Lord Varyn, who now called himself King of Shadows.
The Mage-Council was gone. Villages burned in silence. The rivers ran black.
When Alonso reached the border, the sight stole his breath.
The forests where he'd once trained were now graves of ash. The air reeked of corruption Varyn's dark sorcery twisting the land itself.
"We'll need allies," Eira said. "What army do we have?"
Alonso looked around at the dozen faces scarred, weary,
unbroken. "The only one that matters."
They reached Elderwood at dusk. Amid the ruins stood a
single cottage untouched by flame. From its doorway, a frail voice called,
"Alonso?"
He fell to his knees.
Grandmother Lira stepped into the fading light,older, bent,
but her eyes still bright with fire.
"My boy," she whispered, touching his cheek. "I knew the
flame would not die."
He held her tightly, the years of pain and longing pouring
from him."I'll end this, Grandmother. For Father. For Kael. For all who burned."She nodded. "Then remember fire gives life as well as death. Burn wisely."That night, beneath Draventh's cold stars, Alonso knelt before the
freed warriors.
"The Shadow King has taken our homes, our names, our
freedom," he said. "Tomorrow, we take them back."
The wind stirred; the mark upon his hand glowed once more, brighter than ever.
For the first time since the Burning Night, the flame of
Draventh burned again.