The forest, once blood-soaked and choked with the stench of battle, now lay eerily still. Only the soft murmur of the wind through the charred treetops spoke of what had transpired. Dawn’s light brushed against the battered clearing, touching scorched earth and toppled stone with cautious fingers.
Isla stood at the heart of it, the earth still faintly warm beneath her boots. Her body ached in places she hadn’t even known could hurt. Her mind was a storm of exhaustion and grim clarity. The Death Wolf was sealed, Celeste was gone, and the rogue champions scattered like ash on the wind. But it didn’t feel like victory.
Not yet.
She inhaled deeply, letting the scent of morning and soil fill her lungs. No blood. No death. Just the earth, reborn.
“Isla,” Kael’s voice rumbled beside her, roug
