When the gods descended, the world went silent.

Iron Howl stood on a cliff of ash, its walls cracked and smoking, yet proud. The air above it burned silver and crimson, the heavens torn open into a wound that refused to close.

Through it fell the gods.

Six lights, each vast and ancient, each bearing a shard of the Huntress’s broken power. Their steps were earthquakes. Their words were prayers that killed the air.

Kael stood on the ramparts, flames climbing his armor, his scar flaring like ...