I woke to a sky covered in the smudge of bruised twilight—pink and violet running into deep indigo. The Summit of Selvarin slept silent beneath the twin moons, wards still shivering like wounded lanterns around rim and crater. Battered survivors stumbled from the trees, warri ors of four packs compacted now by blood and honor. Some limped, some bore new scars on their person but each had a glint of triumph in his or her eyes.
I perched on the broken edge, knees up to my chest, hands dirty with ash and charcoal. The triple crescent that had marked me through all my trials throbbed above its infinity of scars, beat in time with the fading heart-stroke of leyline. I closed my eyes, inhaled slow, and tasted copper and moonlight on the tip of my tongue.
Kael walked out of the setting dusk with Dawncleaver strapped to his back and cloak rent but still defiantly flapping in the breeze. He'd gotten down beside me, hand warm on my shoulder.
