After the battle, Kieran hobbled with Corrin and Ilyra to the crest overlooking the gorge. Behind them the sunrise was spilling gold along the slope. Below them, the battered line of his people came together in a circle—hands on shoulders, breathing in shared pain.
No healer could mend what had been inflicted.
Yet the bond was forged darker and stronger than ever.
Kieran rose, voice soft. "We will rebuild. We will push them back. We will end this invasion—for our homes, for Athena, for every life they've taken.".
Far across the sacred woods, in places the demon wolves did not tread, messengers continued to rush. Riders mounted from distant tribes now banded together—all witnessing the hope rekindled in that gorge circle.
But no one felt victory. Only survival.
Kieran's gaze lifted toward the eastern sky, heart constricting with longing. Athena… what would she have done? He didn't know—but he knew this:
He would not let this world fall without a fight.
