The enemy did not retreat because they were defeated.
They retreated because they were learning.
Glosh stood over the war table as dawn bled into morning, her hands planted firmly against carved stone. The map before her was already outdated—borders meant nothing now. Lines were being erased in blood, redrawn by wolves who no longer pretended loyalty to crowns or treaties.
“They’ve stopped acting like fractured packs,” Kael said, voice tight. “Scouts confirm a coalition.”
Glosh didn’t look up. “Names.”
Kael exhaled. “The Iron Fang. The Black Hollow. And remnants of the Southern Crown loyalists.”
A slow nod. “They’ve chosen fear over truth.”
“They’ve chosen survival,” Siena would have said.
The thought cut deeper than she expected.
Siena was gone—but her absence still shaped the ro
