Epilogue

The breeze whispered gently across the broken ridge where Annabelle stood alone against the great curve of sky. The BlackClaw lands fell away below her—old forests heaving with fresh breath, silver streams flowing through valleys long shattered by war and darkness. The earth itself sighed into relief. She did too.

Her eyes followed the line of the horizon, where the sun had fallen low, painting the clouds with fires of amber and rose. This was what she had treasured—not with her ...