The Hunter's remains still smoldered, a mound of black ash scattered over the cracked street. The air smelled of burnt metal and something older — something that made Elara's skin crawl.
Kastor kicked at the ashes with the tip of his boot. "Whatever that thing was, it wasn't working alone."
Serenya crouched beside the pile, sifting the black dust through her fingers. "No. Hunters are bound to a master. Which means someone sent it here… and they knew exactly where to find you."
Elara's hand drifted to the shard, its warmth now faint but steady. "Then they'll send more."
"They won't need to," Serenya replied, standing. "The Crownless don't waste their pieces. They'll come themselves now."
A distant horn echoed through the ruins — low, mournful, and unmistakable. It carried far, bouncing off the broken walls until it sounded like it came from all directions at once.
Kastor's head snapped toward the northern gate. "That's not just the Crownless."
"No," Serenya said, her expression darkening. "That's the Legion of Cinders."
Elara had heard the name before — mercenaries who fought for coin, loyalty bought and sold with gold, infamous for burning entire cities to the ground if paid enough. But she had thought they were only a myth told to frighten young soldiers.
"What do they want with the shard?" Elara asked.
Serenya's eyes met hers. "They don't want it. They want you. Whoever controls the bearer controls the shard. And they'll chain you until your will is gone."
The horn sounded again, closer this time. The shadows at the far end of the street shifted, moving in unison. Shapes emerged — soldiers clad in scorched armor, their faces hidden behind steel masks shaped like snarling beasts. At their head rode a tall figure in crimson-plated armor, the crest of a burning crown on his helm.
"Elara of Thornvale!" The rider's voice carried like a whip crack. "By order of the Legion, surrender the shard and you may live!"
Kastor stepped between Elara and the rider. "Not happening."
Serenya's hand went to her blade. "If you fight them now, you'll die. We need to move."
"Where?" Elara demanded.
"To the Deep Vault," Serenya said quickly. "It's the only place the shard's power can't be sensed. But it lies far to the south, and the way is not… kind."
The rider raised his hand. Behind him, the soldiers fanned out, forming a wall of steel.
Kastor glanced at Elara. "We choose now — run, or fight."
Elara's pulse hammered in her ears. She could feel the shard's heat rising again, responding to the threat. The whisper was back, louder this time.
Strike.
She looked at the army ahead, then at her two unlikely allies.
"Neither," she said. "We make them chase us… into the fire."
Kastor's eyes widened, but a slow grin crept across his face. Serenya simply nodded.
The Legion began to advance, their steps shaking the ground. Elara took a deep breath, the shard burning like molten light in her palm.
"Then let's burn the path behind us," she said.
The first arrow flew, and the ruins of Valmyr became a battlefield once more.