As dusk fell, the Ashbound and Emberkin gathered in the valley. Torches blazed, fire and smoke mingling, warriors braced for the storm.
Kael's voice rang out. "Hold the line. Night is his strength. He will come."
Elira stood, crown pulsing faintly, her breath steady despite exhaustion. "We endure. Whatever shadow brings, we endure."
The valley waited. Torches flickered. The horizon darkened.
But no storm came.
The night stretched on, silent. No smoke, no roar, no Marlic. Only the wind whispering through broken spears.
Whispers spread among the Ashbound. "Why does he not strike? His power is strongest now…"
Elira's eyes narrowed, suspicion heavy. "He is wounded. Or he is plotting. Either way, this silence is not mercy—it is suspense."
Kael tightened his grip on his blade. "Then we train harder. If he waits, we will be ready when he returns."
The torches burned through the endless night, but Marlic never appeared. His absence was more terrifying than his storm.