The ruin still smoked when dawn bled pale light across the broken valley. A gray mist clung low to the stones, curling around splintered pillars and scorched rubble. The air was thick with scents that warred for dominance: the acrid bite of charred wood, the sharp tang of iron and blood, and the faint sweetness of Evelyn's crushed herbs. Every step crunched over remnants of battle, splintered rock, shattered bone, weapons left without masters.
Leo stood on the ruin's threshold; one hand braced against the jagged wall for balance. His body trembled still, though not only from exhaustion. The shard pulsed faintly inside him, a rhythm out of step with his heart. It was a second beat, alien and constant, echoing where his own life thudded weakly. Its whisper curled through his mind like smoke seeping under a door,
They fear you. They should.
His jaw tightened, breath sharp. He forced the voice down, locking it behind clenched teeth.
