The storm didn’t hit until morning. Aria stood just beyond the outpost wall, staring at the sky as thunder cracked […]

The knock came at twilight. Not loud. Not hurried. Just three steady taps against the wooden gate of the outpost’s

The storm rolled in without warning. Low thunder crackled above SilverCrest’s outpost, casting flickering light across the canvas tents. Aria

The witch lived at the edge of the world. Or at least, that’s how it felt as Aria trudged through

The scent hit Aria before she saw him. Sharp. Clean. Too clean—like cologne masking rot. She turned from the central

The land was wild. Untamed. A forgotten stretch of forest nestled between the ruins of the Old Way shrines and

The letter arrived just after dawn. No guards. No messengers. Just a raven, silent and obsidian-eyed, perched outside Kael’s window

The chamber smelled of cedar and power. Not magic—power. The kind measured in favors traded, lives broken, secrets buried under

The decision didn’t come easily. SilverCrest was finally hers again. The council fractured. Evelyn gone. The wolves rallying behind her

The flames weren’t literal—not yet. But the smoke of discontent was thick in the air, and Aria could smell it