*Chapter 49:
*ALESSIA
The dawn that came after the night of the accord did not break like a blade, it came slow and reluctant, spilling over the valley in a color that was not quite gold and not quite gray, as if the sky itself was unsure whether to celebrate the quiet or brace for what came next.
The Ward-Stone’s pulse under my feet was steady now, no longer a frantic drumbeat demanding blood or obedience, but a low, measured rhythm that felt less like a chain and more like a second heartbeat running in time with mine. I stood at the border alone at first, not because I wanted to keep the pack out, but because I needed to see if the quiet would hold when I was not actively fighting it, and when it did, when the air did not smell of old iron and the ground did not tremble under a thre
