The battlefield was silent now, but the air still carried the weight of the war that had just been fought.

Lyla stood amidst the smoldering ruins, her breath steady, but her mind racing.

The Elders had struck first.

They had come for her with fire and fury.

And she had sent them back in pieces.

The bodies of fallen warriors littered the ground, their blood staining the broken stones beneath her feet.

The Marked Ones had won.

But it did not feel like victory.

Not yet.

Because ...