The sun had barely risen when Lyla stood at the heart of the Marked Ones’ stronghold, her silver eyes burning with something more dangerous than anger.
This was not just fury.
This was purpose.
The Elders had made their move.
They had sent an assassin into her home.
Into her throne.
They had tried to kill her in the dark like a coward’s strike, believing they could remove her before the war had even begun.
And they had failed.
Lyla clenched her fists, the shadows curling at her fingertips.
They had struck first.
Now, it was her turn.
And she would burn their world to the ground.
The Marked Ones moved swiftly through the ruins, preparing for war.
Weapons were sharpened.
Armor was strapped into place.
Scouts returned from the edges of the territory, reporting on movements, ene
