Freya‘s pov.

Smoke still clung to the air, thick and suffocating, as I led the children farther away from the wreckage. My legs trembled beneath me, but I refused to stop. I couldn’t stop. Not while I could still hear the distant echoes of metal striking flesh, the growls of beasts lost to madness, the screams that rang through the night like a twisted symphony of chaos.

The festival was in ruins.

The kingdom was under siege.

And I—powerless, useless—was ...