Sasha’s POV
The world was too quiet.
Not the kind of quiet that whispered peace—but the kind that came after screaming. After fire. After death.
The kind of silence that made you realize how loud grief could be.
The battlefield sprawled behind us like a forgotten painting—slashed with ash, bone, and blood. Broken spears jutted from the earth like teeth. Crushed helms lay half-buried in soot. Trees stood blackened, skeletal, their branches clawing at a sky that had turned from crimson to iron—clouds swollen with unshed sorrow.
The scent of smoke still clung to everything. Skin. Hair. Memory.
And inside me… the flame had gone still.
Not gone. Not dead. But watching.
Like some ancient sentinel now waiting to see what I would do with the power that had razed a king and scarred a realm
