Chapter 1808: Whispers of the Fallen

Night's inky shroud was pierced by the wan light of a solitary moon as the heirs gathered atop the battered walls of the renewed Sanctum. The city, still trembling from the previous night's fierce storm, now lay silent—a wounded beast awaiting the dawn's healing warmth. Yet beneath this fragile calm, a subtle disquiet stirred, as if the very air whispered secrets of trials yet to come.

Liam stood at the parapet, his gaze fixed on the horizon where dark silhouettes moved like ghostly memories. The Emberheart, its glow steady and resolute against the chill of twilight, rested close to his heart. In its radiance, he saw both the sorrow of battles fought and the promise of battles yet to be waged. "We have weathered the tempest," he murmured, almost to himself, "but the night is long, and its echoes demand our vigilance."