The scent of blood was thick in the air.

Lyla stood in the middle of the battlefield, surrounded by the bodies of the fallen.

The fight had ended hours ago, but the echoes of it still rang in her ears: the clash of steel, the snarls of wolves, the screams of the dying.

Her warriors moved through the wreckage, gathering their wounded, finishing off any enemy soldiers who still clung to life.

The Marked Ones did not leave survivors.

This was not just a battle.

It was a message.

A ...