Chapter 31 — The Bond That Burns
The night refused to end.
Even hours after Elara had collapsed from the throne, the sky remained bruised with lingering crimson, as though the Blood Moon itself had etched its presence into the heavens. The valley was quieter now—no screams, no clashes—but the stillness carried something heavier than battle.
Anticipation.
Fear.
Preparation.
Elara stood at the edge of the encampment, her arms wrapped around herself as a cold wind swept through the broken land. Fires flickered behind her where wolves rested or stood guard, their low voices blending into the night.
But she couldn't rest.
Not after what she had seen.
Not after what she now knew.
Footsteps approached softly behind her.
"You're doing that thing again."
Draven's voice was low, roughened by exhaustion—but steady.
Grounding.
Elara didn't turn.
"What thing?"
"Staring into the distance like you're carrying the weight of the entire world."
She exhaled faintly.
"Maybe I am."
