The battlefield where the Seventh Seal had fallen was silent now, but the echoes of their struggle still lingered. The wind carried only the sound of distant crows and the faint crackling of dying embers from fires that had burned through the night.
Kaelin stood at the highest ridge, looking out over the broken world. The earth still bore the scars of their war with the gods—deep fissures, blackened plains, shattered hills—but beneath that destruction, life waited to return.
The sky was no longer blood-red. It had softened into pale gold and warm amber, like a long-awaited sunrise.
Behind her, the Hollow Legion was beginning to gather the wounded and honor their dead. The survivors stood taller, their expressions filled with a kind of quiet awe. They had done what no one before them had
