Sasha’s POV
The war had ended, but the air still smelled of ash and iron.
Not because the fires still raged—but because something had been forged. Reforged.
And now… it was cooling. Healing.
The banners of the Hollow King had long since fallen, trampled beneath boots of the brave. The battlefield had grown quiet—its silence no longer menacing, but sacred. A hush before new life could rise.
And from that hush, the realm began to breathe again.
Villagers returned. Burned homes were rebuilt—stone by stone, plank by plank. The survivors who once flinched at shadows now stood tall, hands calloused from work, hearts steadied by hope.
I stood at the top of the citadel steps in my riding cloak, watching the sunrise stretch golden light across the valley below. The flame on my spine warmed—
