The world had never been louder.
The roar of magic, the thunder of clashing forces, the screams of warriors caught in the storm of war, it all came to a head just beyond the sanctuary walls.
For weeks, the Fold had prepared. Eleanor had grown into her power, and Ariella had turned from survivor to commander.
Now, as the Silver Court's armies surged like a glacial tsunami across the horizon, Eleanor stood at the apex of the sanctuary wall, her hands pulsing with energy that no longer threatened to consume her.
She was flame. She was frost. She was ready.
The Battle Begins
Lira descended upon the sanctuary like a goddess of winter, her war chariot pulled by beasts of ice and bone.
Behind her, thousands of soldiers marched, half cloaked in froststeel, the others wrapped in ancient runes, remnants of lost bloodlines reclaimed for war.
Ariella stood beside her daughter, flanked by Leo, Nadia, Carter, Vincent, and Nyssa of the Vale.
