The air in Varethia had never felt lighter.
For the first time in many moons, the wind carried laughter instead of cries, music instead of warning horns. The people danced in the streets, garlands of flowers and ribbons swinging from rooftops and tree branches. Joy flooded the hearts of the villagers, for the nightmare had ended—the First Ones had fallen.
And it was all because of her.
Anastasia.
The Chosen One.
Without her, Varethia would have burned. Every man, woman, and child would have been slaughtered in a heartbeat by the dark creatures who descended from the cursed blood of the First Ones.
But she had stood in the gap. She had saved them all.
The center of the square, once a place of grim meetings and executions, now glowed with warm lanterns and echoed with music and celebr
