The mountain tribes retreated at dawn.
Scouts brought the news within hours—they were gone, melting back into the peaks from which they'd come, their forces broken, their will shattered. The alliance had held. Shadowfang had survived. The pass was clear, the borders secure, the enemy in full retreat.
But the cost was devastating.
Elara stood at the edge of the territory, watching the wounded being carried in, the dead being counted. Every face she saw was marked by grief—loss of friends, family, lovers. The victory felt hollow, bitter, like ashes in her mouth. How could they celebrate when so many would never come home?
Caleb found her there, his arm sliding around her waist. He was still bandaged, still healing, but he was alive. She clung to that.
"We did it," he said quietly. "We w
