Dawn came slow, reluctant — as though the sun itself hesitated to touch the battlefield.

The air was heavy with smoke and blood. Where once the forest stood proud and unbroken, now only blackened trunks reached toward a pale sky. Ash drifted like snow, coating the ground, clinging to fur, to skin, to grief.

Bella walked through the ruins barefoot.

Every step hurt — not from wounds, but from the weight of what she had done. The golden fire had saved them, yes. But it had also devoured ...