The rain had eased to a cold drizzle by the time the last of Vael's raiders had been driven back into the woods. Bodies lay strewn across the muddy ground, their blood mingling with the rainwater in dark, sluggish rivers. The once-proud western gate hung broken, a brutal reminder of the night's violence.
Elara stood silently in the center of the battlefield, the Moonblade hanging at her side, its silver edge stained crimson. The adrenaline that had carried her through the fight was fading, leaving behind a deep, bone-weary exhaustion.
Kael approached her, shifting back into his human form as he came closer. His bare chest was streaked with blood—none of it his own—and his silver eyes held a mixture of pride and worry.
"You did it," he said, voice low. "You led them."
Elara shook her head, a bitter edge to her smile. "This was just a warning, Kael. Vael wanted to show us that he's watching—that he's coming."
Kael cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze. "And we showed him we won't break. You showed them all."
Around them, the warriors of Shadow Ridge began gathering the wounded, tending to the injured, and honoring the dead. Ravynn barked orders, her voice steady despite the grim work at hand. Even Selene moved among them, offering a nod of respect to those who had fought bravely.
The victory, though costly, had united the pack in a way no speech could.
Still, the air hung heavy with uncertainty. Elara could feel it deep in her bones—the sense that this small victory had only stirred the hornet's nest.
A low horn sounded from the watchtower, signaling the arrival of another scout. Moments later, a breathless young wolf rushed to them, his cloak soaked and muddy.
"My Lady," he panted, bowing to Elara, "messengers from the Ironfang and Silverclaw packs have arrived. They seek audience immediately."
Elara exchanged a look with Kael.
Allies—or enemies?
Time would soon tell.
She straightened, pushing aside her exhaustion, and summoned the last reserves of her strength. "Bring them to the Great Hall," she commanded. "Tonight, we decide who truly stands with us—and who stands against us."
As she turned toward the keep, the wind carried a distant howl—long, mournful, and filled with warning.
The echoes of war had been unleashed
.
And there was no turning back.