The forest was quiet again—too quiet.
Aria stood at the edge of the ancient battlefield, where blood once stained the soil and legends had been written in ash and howls. The trees here whispered with memory, their trunks scarred by the First War between wolves and spirits. They watched her now—not as prey, not even as kin, but as a queen not born, but forged in spirit fire.
A strange stillness pressed down, a hush before the storm. The moon, pale and low, hung like an unblinking eye. Behind her, the Circle gathered: Elena, Caleb, Rowan, Thalia, and the others. They bore the wounds of recent battles, but it was Solene's absence that echoed loudest. Her sacrifice had etched a silence into them all.
"Elena," Aria said softly.
Her sister turned, eyes red-rimmed but sharp with purpose. "I'm ready," Elena said. "For whatever comes next."
