**Gaia’s POV**

The valley air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid tang of defeat. Snow Mountain’s compound lay in ruins around us—makeshift towers toppled, rogue banners trampled into the mud, the last whimpers of surrendering wolves fading into the wind-swept peaks. My warriors stood vigilant, binding the captured rogues with silver-laced ropes. Astrein remained at my side, his golden presence a quiet support, but he made no move to intervene. This was my ...