Dawn broke over Noctaria, painting the sky in streaks of blood-red and gold. But the castle felt colder than ever. The Shadow Clan had arrived at the eastern gates, and the air thrummed with danger.
Elara stood on the battlements beside Draven. Her hands still glowed faintly from the night before. The fire within her was unpredictable—powerful, but raw. If she couldn’t control it, she could destroy as much as she protected.
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