Chapter 30. The Last Gate

Night did not fall like it used to.

Instead, it hovered—gray and simmering—as if the mountain itself refused to sleep.

Seraya stood beneath the hollow sky, a bandage across her ribs and ash still clinging to her arms. Blood from others, not all of it dry. Around her, the survivors of the battle tended to the wounded, rebuilt campfires, and began counting the names that would not be called again.

Some names were whispered. Others were screamed.

The silver thread of light still drifted above the crown in the firepit, pulsing softly like a heartbeat too slow to die.

Veyra approached without a word, her armor dented, her left eye bruised but watchful. She stood shoulder to shoulder with Seraya, both of them staring toward the far cliff—toward the gate carved into the mountain’s face like a sealed eye.

No one h