The silence after Emberhold’s fall was louder than the clamor of war.
Kaelin walked through the charred remains of the stronghold days later, her boots crunching over soot and fractured obsidian. Smoke still clung to the air, seeping into lungs and memories. She passed shattered symbols of the Ashen Crown etched into blackened stone, each one now useless. But the unease in her gut didn’t lift.
Not even in victory.
Theron walked beside her, his cloak torn and soot-streaked. His blade was clean, but his eyes were wary.
Selene emerged from a crumbled doorway. She didn’t bow—only gave a sharp nod. "There’s something below. It was sealed, and not by Inquisition hands."
Kaelin’s jaw tensed. "Another temple?"
"No," Selene said. "Worse. Older. Come."
---
They followed Selene through a hidd
