Elara POV
Noon burned white over the Thornwall.
I stood in a cloak that hid my hair and marks. The hood threw shadow over my face. Dust clung to the hem as the wind curled through the dead stones. Mira walked beside me, dressed like a quiet camp scribe. No crest. No scent that screamed wolf. Just two shadows moving with purpose.
Theron's army stood like a dark horizon around the Barrens. Not charging. Watching. Lines held. Standards hanging still in the hard light. They were not here to attack. They were here to hold a ring and wait.
Kaelen held his formation west of the ridge. Far enough not to trigger panic. Close enough to break the circle if he had to. I could feel him through the silver bond—a steady, burning line—focused, braced, worried. He did not call to me. He held the line and his oath. Let me choose.
I walked into the clearing.
