The great hall was unnervingly still.
The chaos had folded away like smoke, leaving behind shattered furniture, splattered blood, and the heavy scent of burned magic. Candles guttered, their flames flickering weakly in the cold air that had rushed in with the Wendigos’ retreat. The stone walls, once reverberating with screams and howls, now held only the low hum of distant wind.
Rose stood near the center, her sword still warm and humming faintly in her hand. Around her lay the broken body of Lira—leader of the attack, a creature they had all feared, but whom Rose had never known beyond this night. They were not friends, had never been allies, and had no history beyond this violent crossing of paths.
Still, Rose’s heart clenched.
Not because Lira was close to her—no, that was never tru
