The ruins of the Eastern Keep stood like a skeletal remnant of the past, charred stone and broken walls marking the battlefield where the Elders had made their last stand.
Lyla sat on the crumbling remains of what had once been a throne not hers, not yet.
Her warriors moved like shadows around her, tending to the wounded, sharpening their blades, fortifying their defenses.
Victory had come at a cost.
But even as the last embers of war smoldered, Lyla knew
This was not peace.
This was the space between battles.
And something was already watching from the dark.
She could feel it.
A shift in the air.
Something just beyond the veil of what she could see.
Not an enemy.
Not an army.
Something else.
She stood slowly, the weight of power humming beneath her skin.
The wind whispered
