AYLA'S POV
The ravine was silent at last, but it was the silence of aftermath, not peace.
Snow lay blackened with ash and ichor, the stink of burned shadow and wet fur heavy in the air. The wind cut through the pines, sharp and hollow, carrying the faint echo of Veylor's laughter like a memory I couldn't shake.
Kael stood at my side, bare-chested in the cold, golden eyes burning as his breath steamed in the night air. His black wolf prowled just under his skin, restless, protective, and furious.
The bond pulsed steady, warm where it pressed against my chest—but beneath the heat, I could feel the faint hairline crack he'd left behind. Each pulse reminded me of how close we'd come to breaking.
Rylan limped toward us, knives slick with black ichor, his amber-violet eyes sharp even through exhaustion. "We lived," he said flatly. "But it wasn't a win. He didn't send those thralls to kill us. He sent them to wear you down."
