The wind howled like a mourning spirit through the ravaged trees as Aria stood at the heart of the old battlefield. The sky hung low and heavy with clouds, bruised purple and gray, as though the heavens themselves had watched too much suffering.
Around her, the Circle prepared in silence. Solene's runes glowed faintly at the edges of the clearing, pulsing in rhythm with the ancient magic they'd reawakened. Rowan stood watch on the northern ridge, his blade drawn and aura tense. Elena, her eyes dark with shadows and insight, moved methodically between the runes, whispering prayers in a forgotten tongue.
But Aria barely noticed them. Her gaze was fixed on Caleb.
