Kael ordered the warriors to lower their torches. "We cannot fight every night. We must store strength, or dawn will find us broken."
The Ashbound and Emberkin obeyed, settling into the valley's scarred earth. Torches dimmed but did not die, smoke rising faintly into the night sky.
Elira lay among them, her crown pulsing gently. For the first time since the storm, she allowed herself to rest. The silence was heavy, but it was not despair—it was preparation.
The valley breathed together, flame and smoke mingling in quiet endurance. They did not know when Marlic would strike again, but they would meet him with strength renewed