The first rays of dawn bled through the smoke, thin shafts of light struggling to pierce the city’s wounds. The air smelled of ash and iron, of broken stone and charred wood. Somewhere in the ruins, a child cried. Somewhere else, a bell rang hollow, its tower cracked and leaning.Mara stood on the battlements, staring at what had once been a proud skyline. Entire streets were gutted, rooftops burned to black husks, walls half-collapsed into rubble. Her people moved like phantoms through the destruction, pulling survivors from wreckage, covering the dead, carrying water to smother what flames still lingered.The city had survived the night. But survival felt like too fragile a word.Her gauntlets were streaked with blood, none of it her own. Her throat ached from shouting orders, her body from hours of fighting. Yet she remained standing, because if she faltered now, so would those who looked to her.Behind her, boots shuffled against stone. Eryn approached quietly, her arm in a sling,

The night before the strike was the quietest the city had known in weeks.Too quiet.No Raven chants echoing from the hills, no sudden firestorms burning on the horizon. Just silence—broken only by the rasp of steel being sharpened, the shuffle of boots preparing for war, and the faint groans of the wounded in their cots.Jason stood at the edge of the campfire, running his thumb along the blade of his dagger. His eyes weren’t on the steel. They were on Damian, who sat alone near the wall, shadows coiling around him like vines.Jason spat to the ground. “You trust him?”Mara’s voice came from behind. “He’s our only chance at finding their heart.”Jason turned, frustration hardening his jaw. “He’s not stable, Mara. You saw what happened in the last fight. That silence inside him isn’t just power—it’s poison. It’s eating him alive.”Mara folded her arms, her gaze steady. “And yet, he lived where none of us would have. Without him, the Ravens would have taken this city already. Don’t mis

The fires had been smothered, but the smoke clung to the city like a curse.Ash rained down over broken streets, turning blood to mud, painting the survivors gray. The wounded groaned in alleys, and bucket lines dragged on even after the last embers hissed into silence.But silence no longer comforted. It pressed. It unsettled.Because Damian carried it now.***Jason slammed a fist into the council table, sending maps and tokens scattering. “We can’t hold like this. One more raid, and the food’s gone. People are already starving.”Eryn leaned heavily on her bow, her arm bandaged tight, her expression grim. “We can’t chase them either. The Ravens vanish when they choose. Shadows don’t fight sieges.”Mara sat straighter, though exhaustion gnawed at her posture. “Then we don’t chase shadows. We drag them into the light. The preacher gave a name.”Jason froze. “And you believe it?”Mara’s eyes flicked to Damian, who sat in the corner of the chamber, head bowed, fingers steepled against h

The altar split.Not in stone, but in meaning. The grooves carved into obsidian flared with red light, and then black veins tore through, drinking it away. The ground shook, the chained captives screaming through their gags as the cracks widened beneath them.The Ravens dropped to their knees, wings of black feathered cloaks spread like supplication. Their chanting rose, ragged but fervent, weaving with the soundless void pouring out of Damian.Jason lunged, hammer raised. “Break it now!”He brought the weapon down, shattering one slab into shards. Sparks and fire hissed out—yet the altar only pulsed harder, feeding not on stone but on Damian’s silence.Mara’s voice cut sharp through the chaos. “It’s him! It’s using him!”Jason froze, his eyes snapping to his brother. Damian knelt in the dust, hands clawing at the ground, mouth open in a soundless scream. Shadows rippled outward from him, curling into the cracks of the altar as if drawn home. His eyes were no longer gray but pits of s

The valley did not breathe.Ash fell like snow across the ruined altar. Soldiers crouched behind their shields, eyes darting between the Ravens on their knees and the lone figure standing where shadow had exploded.Damian.He clutched Jason’s hammer to his chest as though it could keep him tethered. His knuckles whitened, trembling under the weight of a silence that would not let go. Around him, the Ravens chanted, voices low and fevered:“The Mouth. The Vessel. The Living Silence.”Mara pushed forward, sword drawn, fury in every step. She stopped just shy of him, chest heaving. “Damian.”He didn’t lift his head.“You hear me?” she pressed, her voice sharp. “Jason gave himself for you. Don’t you dare waste it by bowing to them.”The words cracked the air like a whip. Soldiers stirred, emboldened, but the Ravens only pressed their foreheads to the ash, their devotion deepening.Finally, Damian raised his eyes. They were gray—his own—but ringed in faint smoke. His voice was hoarse. “I d