The cliffs above the breach were no longer calm.
Winds howled in unnatural rhythms. The stone beneath the sentry lines pulsed like a heartbeat. The breach’s light—once a steady aura—now shimmered like a dying star, flickering between colors that had no name.
And then, silence.
The kind of silence that makes even seasoned warriors flinch.
From the center of the rift, something shifted. A shape—a figure—emerged.
It was Seraphina, cloaked in flame and shadow, stumbling as if the light itself fought her reentry. Then Zaire, blade drawn, breathing hard. Then Aeryn and Ava. Then Lima, clutching her own name as if it were all she had.
And finally—Nyra, leaning on Keal’s arm.
The council surged forward. Queen Mahri barked orders. Elder Mira cried out in relief. The wind caught the banners a
