The battlefield held its breath.
Wolves remained frozen in that impossible moment, caught between instinct and something older. My words still echoed in the air, as if the land had not yet decided whether to keep them or tear them apart.
Winterborn stands.
I had not meant to say it. I had not planned it. Yet the moment the declaration left my mouth, the world recognized it. Accepted it. Bowed to it.
Valen’s face twisted, not in rage, but something worse. Recognition. He understood before I did. His voice cut across the ridge, sharp enough to draw blood from memory itself.
“You have no idea what you summoned.”
Wolves behind him stumbled as threads of silver and red magic snapped off their bodies and dissolved into the ground. The rogues blinked as if waking from deep sleep, some colla
