The rain stopped falling and the sun shone bright above the ruins of Cumoreen. The streets were soaked with the remnants of what had been. Scales glinting like broken glass, charred banners fluttering weakly in the heat of ruin. Amid it all, Ligon walked. Barefoot, shirt torn, he had let the wolf skin fall from him, now he stood more human,
Glacy trailed beside him, a half-step behind, not out of submission, but reverence. Her skin was smudged with soot and and her gaze, though tired burned with quiet pride and awe.
The Basilisk elders were gone. The proud, scaled monarchs of Cumoreen reduced to steam rising from torn flesh and jeweled plates slick with blood.
But now, from among the trembling survivors, a new leader had emerged, a serpentine with white-gold hair who the survivors bo
