The night sky bled crimson.Above the sacred valley, the Blood Moon reached its zenith, casting an eerie red glow over the lands below. Every shadow stretched longer. Every breath tasted older. It was the kind of night when the veil between legends and truth grew thin.Ava stood at the edge of the Ritual Plateau, the ground beneath her feet thrumming with power. Her cloak had been replaced with ceremonial armor—a blend of silver-etched leather and obsidian plating, fitted tightly to her body. Around her neck hung the sigil of the Chosen: a crescent entwined with a bleeding thorn.Behind her, the four remaining contenders stood in silence, each carrying the weight of what was to come.Kellan, his eyes focused only on her, jaw tight with unspoken vows.Damon, standing apart, his posture alert—ready for battle or sacrifice.Maddox, cool and unreadable, arms folded over his broad chest, his expression unreadable beneath his war paint.Ronan, his aura pulsing with ancient magic, a feral gl
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