The snow began again by morning.
Not the gentle flurry of winter’s kiss—but sharp, wind-laced needles that stung like warnings. The Hollow had chosen its heir, and the world responded not with celebration…
…but with preparation.
Somewhere deep in the Ironspine Mountains, war drums began to echo—faint, but steady. Summoning something that had been buried. Bound. Forgotten.
They had heard the call.
They had felt her.
And they were coming.
⸻
Aelira moved through the forest like she’d never bled.
Cain followed at her side, quieter now, watchful. He had seen what the Trial had done—how it carved not weakness, but clarity into her. She no longer flinched. She no longer doubted.
She was no longer someone who could be trained, or claimed.
She was someone who would be obeyed.
“You’re di
