The dawn light was weak, casting a pale, hesitant glow through the wisps of clouds that still clung low to the ground. It was as though the sun itself knew of the shadows left by yesterday's battle. I surveyed the landscape with measured steps, feeling the remnants of smoke cling to the air. Here and there, marks from hurried skirmishes and retreats scarred the roads. Though victory was ours, the cost seemed to reverberate in every silence, leaving us raw in a way triumph never should.
I moved through the courtyard where our people had gathered. They’d braved the aftermath to find some reassurance, their faces shifting between hope and uncertainty. But I felt their gazes stray from me, fixing on Aeris—Mistefell’s queen, their symbol of resilience and authority. She stood taller than the r
