KAEL'S POV
The horns had stopped hours ago.
But their echo hadn't. It threaded through the forest like a pulse—steady, distant, promising blood.
I stood at the ridge, the moon hanging low behind the clouds, the snow faintly blue under its light. My men were scattered through the trees, silent, waiting. The night before battle always felt like this—hollow, electric, the kind of silence that made you believe the world was holding its breath.
Behind me, Ayla moved softly. I could feel her before I heard her—the pull of her scent, the subtle warmth that refused to fade even in this cold.
"Your men are ready," she said quietly.
I turned. She stood at the edge of the firelight, cloak pulled tight around her shoulders. The wind caught her hair, the silver strands glinting like threads of moonlight. But her eyes were different now—sharper, older. The violet still shimmered faintly beneath the gray.
"They'll wait for dawn," I said.
"Dawn might not come," she replied.
