Chapter 39. The Blood That Stays

Hollowridge did not rest.

Even after the last war cry faded and the ash settled into the seams of stone, the mountain refused sleep. Wolves moved through the halls like ghosts uncertain whether they had survived the battle or crossed into something stranger. Fires burned low in ancient hearths, blades were cleaned but not sheathed, and the names of the dead were carved into the inner walls one by one until the stone itself began to run out of room.

Seraya stood in the Hall of Remembrance, her fingers resting against the final name etched into the far wall.

Kae of the Redroot Line.

He had lived—barely. Now he slept in the healer’s den, wrapped in furs too large for his slight frame, one arm bound, one eye swollen shut. When she had visited him that morning, he had no