Chapter 40. What Remains After Fire

The dawn broke not with trumpets, but with fog.

It rolled across the ridge in slow, pale waves, softening the jagged edges of Hollowridge’s scarred walls and shrouding the blood-stained earth in something close to mercy. The sky above was cloudless; sunlight filtered gently rather than fiercely, as if even the stars had learned restraint after all that had been burned away.

Seraya stood barefoot at the edge of the ceremonial basin, water lapping around her ankles. The basin had once been used for coronations, for blood rites, for binding vows in ash and fire. Generations of power had passed through this stone circle, leaving behind echoes that never fully faded.

Now it was quiet.

The ripples around her feet glowed faintly, reacting to the mark that wrapped her body in golden, flame-threaded sigils. Her reflection in the water shimm