The wind howled as Ivy, Kael, and Ember raced through the dense forest toward the eastern border.
Ash clung to the trees like black snow, and even from a distance, Ivy could feel the sting of magic in the air — dark, cold, and old. Not just shadow magic.
Blood magic.
As they crested the final hill, the scene below nearly stole Ivy’s breath.
Half a dozen Crescent Moon warriors lay on the ground, groaning in pain. Flames licked the trunks of trees, but they weren’t Ember’s golden fire. These burned red and black, like twisted shadows come to life.
Ember froze beside her. “That’s not me. That’s not any flameborn I know.”
“No,” Ivy said tightly, “but it’s someone who wants us to believe it is.”
Kael unsheathed his sword. “Stay close.”
They leapt into the chaos.
Ivy moved like a shadow
