The Last Stand

LAYLA

Red. The whole sky was burning red. Not from the sunset. But for the fire going up, painting the sky red and black.

It clawed its way across the sky like the heavens themselves were bleeding, smoke rolling over the trees and the sight of it made my heart pounded. And the smell, dear moon goddess, he wind was thick with it. Blood. Ash. Fear.

They were here.

The rogues.

No more hiding. No more shadows. They were stepping out into the light like they owned it.

Every hair on ...