Emily Rosewood’s Point of View.
The road to Ebonhold – the day the ash remembered us
The Hollow was never quiet before a march.
The clang of armor, the rhythmic thudding of booted feet, the low growl of wolves shifting restlessly through the corridors. I absorbed it all from the terrace overlooking the southern gate. Dawn spilled pale gold across the moss-covered walkways, but no one greeted the morning. There was no joy in this march.
Because this was no mere campaign.
This was a descent into the cursed lands.
A march into the Ironfang stronghold.
And I led it.
I gripped the stone ledge, my knuckles white. Below me, Sebastian barked orders to his captains, his presence unmistakable—a tower of calm power in the chaos. He’d been awake all night, preparing routes, sharpening weapons,
