The moon hung over the Ashen Blades’ valley like a silver blade, cold, merciless, and sharp enough to split the world in two.
Beneath its pale light, three sect armies stretched across the hills, banners fluttering in the wind.
Their chants echoed through the night, a promise of blood.
Kael stood at the sect gates, his coat torn and his hair whipping in the cold breeze. Behind him, the remnants of the Ashen Blades waited in silence.
Fear rolled off them in waves. Even now, after everything, most couldn’t decide if the man before them was their savior or their doom.
He didn’t blame them.
He wasn’t sure of himself anymore.
“Kael,” Aelira said quietly, stepping beside him. Her silver eyes glimmered faintly in the moonlight. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
He gave a low, humorles
