The map burned.
Not with fire, but with magic. A slow, smoldering pulse that traced over the ancient vellum like veins of molten gold. Each flicker marked a Hollow Court stronghold—remnants of a dying empire still too dangerous to ignore.
“This is where it begins,” I said, tapping the symbol closest to Ashbourne’s outer ridge.
Kael leaned over my shoulder, eyes narrowed. “You mean ends.”
“Beginnings and endings aren’t so different anymore,” Mira murmured.
She stood at the far end of the war table, cloaked in layered runes, her oath spell now inked onto the leather bracer she wore around her wrist. A living sigil. A promise wrapped in power.
And a threat.
Around the table stood emissaries, generals, and survivors—leaders who’d never once bowed to the Hollow Court, and others who once
