AYLA'S POV
The horn's third call rolled over the valley like thunder that never ended.
It wasn't the sound of war beginning—it was the sound of everything that had been waiting finally waking.
The air felt different now.
Heavy. Listening.
Kael's soldiers moved in silence through the trees, their armor whispering against bark and frost. None spoke. None dared. The forest seemed to absorb their movements, swallowing every sound as if afraid to draw attention to itself.
I stood a little apart from them, the crest he'd given me still in my hand. The metal was colder than it should have been, heavy enough to feel alive. His scent clung to it—iron, smoke, cedar. Comfort and warning tangled together.
The faint light of dawn bled into the snow, turning it the color of ashes. Somewhere below, the enemy's torches flared, dozens of them. Maybe hundreds.
I could feel them even without looking. Not the soldiers, him.
Rylan.
