The woman did not smile when the scout returned.
“She’s crossed fully,” the wolf reported, kneeling. “No pack scent within range. No patrol interference.”
The chamber was dim, lit only by suspended sigils that pulsed faintly against stone walls carved long before Bloodstone claimed dominance in the region. The air smelled faintly of iron and old magic.
“She hasn’t attacked,” the witch added quietly. “Her energy signature is… subdued.”
The woman tilted her head slightly.
“Subdued,” she repeated.
“Yes.”
The demon leaned forward from where he rested against a pillar. “Grief finally did what we expected.”
The woman’s gaze shifted toward the projection hovering in the center of the chamber.
Ember stood in the clearing.
Alone.
Fire coiled faintly beneath her skin — not volatile, not e
