silence hung over the northern glaciers.
For three agonizing days, the blizzard raged across the jagged peaks where the High Council’s leviathan had torn through the sky. In the valley below, Blackwood Citadel waited in tense, breathless quiet.
Search teams of Ironclaw warriors, former Silverfang fighters, and rogue shifters dug tirelessly through the burning wreckage scattered across miles of frozen ice, refusing to surrender to the freezing winds.
Down in the central plaza, the citizens stood shoulder to shoulder. The sky above was no longer tainted by corrupted purple haze,the air blew crisp, clean, and cool, carrying the sweet scent of pine and fresh snow. The black vein sickness was gone, the city was standing, but the silence from the upper ridge weighed heavily on every heart.
