Chapter 109 War Cry Of The Marked

The first rays of sunlight crept across the battlefield, washing the valley in gold. But there was no warmth in it—only the sharp clarity of war. Armored wolves lined the southern ridge, blades strapped to their backs, their eyes fierce and gleaming. In the center, Aria stood clad in ceremonial obsidian leathers stitched with threads of silver fire. The mark from the Rite still glowed faintly across her collarbone—half-moon and flame intertwined.