The dawn came quietly, cold and colorless.
The cliffs of the Dawnspine Enclave stood still beneath a thick curtain of snow, the bloody remnants of battle already half-buried by frost. The flames that had raged only hours before were little more than smoldering coals, curling smoke into the grey morning sky.
Kaelin stood at the edge of the ruined altar, watching Myrra secure the now-dormant shard in a reinforced iron case engraved with protective glyphs. Its light had dimmed, but it still pulsed faintly—an ember refusing to die.
Theron approached her, his armor stained with ash and dried blood.
"We’ll need to seal this place. Salt the soil. Ward every wall. If there’s one shard seed, there could be more."
Kaelin nodded, her eyes hard. "We underestimated what we left behind. We can’t af
