Two days after Marlin's death, the news reached the capital.King Aldwin Brightward sat in his private study, reviewing grain reports, when the air in the corner of the room shimmered. He didn't look up immediately—he knew that presence, that particular disturbance of space.His envoy had returned."Your Majesty." The man materialised from the shadows, kneeling immediately. His face was grim, his usual composure cracked at the edges."Report." Aldwin set down the parchment, a cold weight already settling in his stomach. His envoy only appeared personally when something had gone terribly wrong."Marlin Gust is dead."The quill slipped from Aldwin's fingers, clattering against the desk. For a moment, he couldn't breathe. Couldn't process the words.Marlin. Dead.It felt impossible. Marlin, who had been one of the strongest, who had survived battles that would have killed lesser men a hundred times over. Who had given up everything to protect that boy in secret."Who?" Aldwin's voice cam

The capital rose before him like something from a dream.Ethan stood at the crest of the final hill, his breath catching despite himself. Three years of walking, working, surviving, and it all led here.Valdris.The walls stretched higher than any tree in the Ashspire forest, white stone gleaming in the morning sun. Towers pierced the sky, their peaks wrapped in wisps of cloud. Even from this distance, he could see the movement of thousands of people, hundreds of buildings, a city so vast it made every town he'd passed through look like toys.Beside him, Ember sat on her haunches. She was no longer the small kit he'd rescued. Three years had transformed her into a magnificent silver fox, her coat gleaming, her amber eyes sharp and intelligent."We made it," Ethan said quietly. "Three years, and we actually made it."Three years on the road. Three years of working in towns and villages, reading in every library he could find, moving slowly but steadily north. Three years of being alone