The message arrived at dawn.
Not carried by a raven or a warrior.
But by mist.
It slithered into the war camp like smoke, curling around tents and weapons until it reached Ivy’s chamber and whispered her name.
She woke instantly.
At the foot of her bed stood a cloaked figure—hood drawn low, hands bare and empty.
“Don’t scream,” the figure said, voice feminine, calm. “I come with an offer.”
Kael was at Ivy’s side in seconds, blade drawn.
But the figure didn’t move.
“I carry no weapon. Only a message from the Queen.”
In the war tent, the council gathered.
Ember stood beside Ivy, expression unreadable as the figure unrolled the scroll.
Gold ink. Red wax. Marked with the vampire Queen’s seal.
Ivy read it aloud.
“To the flameborn heir and her mate. I offer peace. No more blood, no
