The march to the Shadowlands began beneath a red sky.
It wasn’t just wolves who followed Ivy now.
Spellcasters. Rogues. Highlanders. Even humans.
Outcasts once hunted for their magic now stood shoulder to shoulder, forming the most fractured army the realm had seen in centuries.
Yet none of them questioned her command.
Because Ivy was more than a general now.
She was the Fifth Flame.
Kael rode beside her at the front of the line, quiet but alert.
Jax scouted ahead with his usual grin and two swords strapped to his back.
Liora handled magical wards, her fingers glowing constantly.
And Ivy?
She led in her mother’s armor.
White. Gold. Fire-forged.
Its weight felt right on her shoulders—as if Selene’s strength had been waiting for her.
On the second day of their march, they reach
