The battlefield was still alive with the echoes of the past, the silver apparitions flickering like dying embers in the charged air. But Ronan had no time to dwell on history. He had a mission.
The moment Layla’s voice rang out, declaring an end to the war, he moved.
With a sharp signal, Ronan gathered a handful of loyal warriors, Stormborn elites and Blackthorne defectors who had seen the truth of Gideon’s tyranny. They needed to cut through the remaining rogue forces and free the imprisoned captives, including Layla’s mother.
Steel clashed against claw as they pushed forward. The rogues fought with desperation, but the tide had shifted. Layla’s presence had shaken the battlefield, and Ronan wielded that advantage like a blade.
“Hold the line!” he barked as his warriors surged ahead,
