The ruins of the Eastern Keep stood like a skeletal remnant of the past, charred stone and broken walls marking the battlefield where the Elders had made their last stand.

Lyla sat on the crumbling remains of what had once been a throne not hers, not yet.

Her warriors moved like shadows around her, tending to the wounded, sharpening their blades, fortifying their defenses.

Victory had come at a cost.

But even as the last embers of war smoldered, Lyla knew

This was not peace.

This ...