AYLA – POV
The valley air hummed with expectancy—the charged kind that leaves a taste of copper in the mouth. Trees bent once more in the wind, as if bearing witness, leaning toward our fragile stand.
I squeezed Kael's hand. His warmth was a tether, steadying me even as my own magic rattled like a caged wolf, longing to run.
The Shadowborn commander remained silent, their banners lined like dark teeth along the ridge. I saw in her eyes the remnants of doubt—questioning whether power resided in bone, blood, or belief.
"Speak," she said finally. Quiet. Calculated. A queen seeking terms with a force she couldn't yet grasp.
I drew breath, slow and full, tasting smoke and moonfire and his scent—the scent of storms held at bay. This was more than confrontation. It was a declaration.
"We will share the valley," I said, voice low and certain. "Not knuckles to ground, not fearful of fealty. We build with our feet, not bend with our knees."
