The city was already burning when Isabella reached the eastern quarter.
Smoke clawed at the sky, turning dawn into a bruised twilight. Sirens wailed somewhere in the distance, cut short by gunfire. The ground trembled beneath her boots not from fear, but from the sheer weight of war pressing in on all sides.
"Civilians are still trapped inside," a lieutenant shouted over the chaos. "We can pull back"
"No." Isabella didn't slow. "We move forward."
Blood streaked her cheek, not hers, not yet. Her coat was torn, her hair pulled back roughly, eyes blazing with a calm that terrified the men more than any scream ever could. This wasn't the frightened woman who once hid behind Damian's shadow.
This was the Queen of the Iron Crown.
Explosions thundered nearby. A building collapsed two streets away, sending a shockwave that knocked soldiers to their knees. Isabella barely flinched.
"Clear the alley," she ordered. "Get the children out first."
