Chapter 35. The War Crowned in Smoke

The horns had not stopped.

Three distinct calls—deep, rhythmic, unrelenting—rolled through the mountain passes and into the Hollowridge throne hall like distant thunder too proud to fade. Wolves began to move in the corridors. Armor clattered. Blades hissed from leather. The banners were raised.

Seraya stood beneath the great archway, overlooking the eastern courtyard.

The sky was orange-gray with rising ash.

She wore no crown. Just the mark, now carved across her shoulders like a mantle. The fire that had once been hers alone now whispered with every step she took.

Rael stood beside her, already in full armor. “Scouts say the Ironclaw remnants number at least four hundred. The southline packs another two hundred. And the third group—”

“Unmarked?” she guessed.

Rael nodded griml