Zara’s POV
No one moved.
For one impossible heartbeat, the battlefield forgot how to breathe.
Blood Moon warriors stood with weapons raised. House Crimson soldiers froze mid-charge.
Moonlight poured over the new arrivals.
They descended in perfect silence.
Rows of warriors in dark silver armor advanced with measured precision, their cloaks lined in white fur, their shields marked with the crescent seal branded onto my wrist. No shouted threats. No wild rush toward battle. Only disciplined certainty.
At their center rode a woman on a white horse.
She was older than Seraphine, younger than age itself.
Silver hair braided down her back. Pale skin. Eyes like winter stars.
Power moved around her in quiet waves.
Not loud like Greyson’s.
Not sharp like Seraphine’s.
Ancient.
Fire bo
