Heather's POV
----
The wind howled through the mountain ridges as the first signs of the Ashen Hollow wolves came into view.
They moved slowly—not from caution, but exhaustion. There were no weapons drawn, no defensive stances. Just worn boots, torn cloaks, and eyes that had long forgotten what hope looked like. Mothers cradled pups barely old enough to walk, and warriors carried the injured on makeshift stretchers of bark and fabric. These were not enemies. These were survivors.
I stood at the eastern gate, arms folded across my chest as the sun crested the horizon behind me. The scent of ash and old blood rode the breeze.
Darrian stood just behind me, silent and unmoving, his presence a steady wall at my back. Ronan paced a few feet away, whispering orders to guards and medics who
