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By late afternoon, the stronghold rang with the noise of preparation - armour being buckled, orders being shouted, wards being tested. But Aria turned away from all of it, toward the quiet walled garden at the back of the keep. This was the hardest thing she would do in all the days ahead. Harder than facing the entity. Harder than leading the charge. Harder than anything she had ever faced in two lives.

The seven children were gathered beneath the ancient oak tree, their usual games abandoned. Lycian sat on a stone, his hands folded in his lap, watching the clouds. Fenris stood beside him, her chin up, her...