The flames of victory had barely cooled when the true cost began to surface.
Crimson Ridge stood scarred, but not broken. Ash drifted across the land like snow, a reminder of the power unleashed. And in the center of the courtyard, where the Lawbringer had fallen, a black tree had begun to grow.
It shouldn’t have.
It had no roots, no leaves.
Just a jagged trunk of obsidian bark, and within it, a faint heartbeat.
The Hall of Embers
Lucian paced.
Elizabeth sat on the throne—not as Luna, but as High Flame Queen. Her eyes hadn’t stopped burning since the battle. Not even in rest.
“The scouts report more anomalies,” Lucian said. “Not just from the Root. Other forces... things we’ve never seen. It’s like the veil tore open and stayed open.”
Jaxon leaned on the table, bruised and stiff.
