The fire still burned on the wall.
By morning, the valley smelled of ash and blood. Wolves moved among the dead, stacking bodies in silence, their faces drawn, their hands steady in the way of those who had already buried too many. The Moonfang banners hung limp, their black cloth streaked with soot.
Elinora stood apart on the dais, the Spine resting across her knees. The cracks in the stone beneath her pulsed faintly, the hum rising and falling like breath. She could feel the ruins watching her, pressing against her mind, waiting for her to call them again.
Her wolf whispered. It likes your hand on the leash. It wants you as master — but it will not hesitate to bite if you falter.
Riven approached from the wall, his cloak torn, blood dried along his jaw. His eyes were steady, though s
