THE CAPTIVE'S LOVE
"
There was silence after her words.
Heavy. Sacred.
Then—
a howl ripped through the air.
A single voice, wild and unclad, burst from the throng—then another. And another. Until the canyon rang with the cry of togetherness, of renewal. Of a pack that was no longer broken.
Emereah stood still, wind streaming through her black locks, her gaze fixed on the horizon. The crescent blade still lifted, basking in the golden light of a world reborn.
Vera dipped her head, tears running down her ash-streaked cheeks.
Rhovan went to his knee, resting his blade on the ground.
The others followed, a tide of devotion—unshakable, chosen, fierce.
In that moment, Emereah was more than a leader.
She was legend.
الفصول الرائجة