We leave at dawn.
Not as an army.
Not as a procession.
But as a promise walking on two legs and four.
The sanctuary does not empty, Maera refuses to abandon it, but a small group moves with me: Ilyra and six of the strongest fighters, three scouts, Lina tucked safely in the center of the formation, and Kade walking at my side like he's daring the world to try to move me without going through him first.
The valley watches us go.
No one kneels.
No one cheers.
They simply stand and look at me like they're memorizing my back in case I don't return.
My wolf bristles. "They think this is a farewell."
I swallow. "Let's make it a return."
The forest beyond the ravine is quieter than it should be.
Birds keep their distance. The wind carries old scents, iron, ash, and something faintly bitter that makes my Mark pulse uneasily.
"Ambush country," Ilyra mutters, hand never straying far from her blade.
Kade glances at me. "Your glow's getting brighter."
"I know," I reply.
