The ride back to Winter's Crown was silent, the trio weighed down by exhaustion and the heavy burden of what they had just accomplished. The fortress they left behind was no longer Elyas's stronghold but a hollow shell, its halls marked by the blood of his rebellion.
Amara rode slightly ahead, her sharp blue eyes scanning the road for threats. The tension in her shoulders belied her usual confidenceāthis wasn't the kind of victory that called for celebration.
Beside Damien, Carys sat stiffly in her saddle, her green eyes fixed on the horizon. She hadn't said much since they left the fortress, and Damien knew why. Elyas's death had brought them closer to peace, but it hadn't erased the scars he had inflicted.
