The Ashes of Dawn
The sun rose pale and cold over the watchtower ruins. Its light did not feel like salvation but judgment. The chamber stank of blood and burned flesh. The floor was littered with broken blades, arrows snapped, corpses masked in silver.
The group was alive—barely. Their breaths came ragged, shoulders slumped, faces hollow with exhaustion.
Lena stood at the center of it all, her crowns flickering dim above her head, her mark burning like molten iron beneath her collarbone. She felt like glass about to crack.
Dominic leaned against the wall, sweat dripping down his temples, his wrists raw from where ropes had once bound him. He had fought like a storm unleashed, yet the memory of his hesitation still hung over the room like smoke.
Kael stood in the corner, untouched by
