The battlefield fell silent.
Not because the fighting had ended.
Because no one understood what they had just witnessed.
Black fire rolled across the earth like a living storm, swallowing abandoned weapons, scorched wagons, and broken walls. It danced around the frightened villagers without touching them, yet every Crimson Fang warrior caught within its reach dropped to their knees, screaming as shadows wrapped around their bodies.
Kaelira stood at the center of it all.
Her silver hair drifted in the wind, though no breeze stirred.
The cut across her palm had already healed.
But the flames…
They refused to die.
She stared at her hands in horror.
“I didn’t do this…”
The fire answered with another violent surge.
“Kaelira!”
Ronan’s voice reached her through the roar of the flames
