The Warpath to the Council's City
The sky wasn't the same anymore. It had been scarred by war, the air filled with remnants of shattered Rift energy that crackled and whispered as they faded into the atmosphere. Every step forward felt heavier—not just because of the gravity of what they were about to do, but because of what they had already lost.
Nathaniel.
Ethan's boots pressed against fractured earth, the golden-shadow aura flickering around him like a storm barely contained. His body moved with controlled purpose, every motion carrying a weight beyond his years.
He didn't just feel strong.
He felt inevitable.
The battlefield was behind them. The Council's last stronghold lay ahead.
Mia walked beside him, shifting the grip on her dagger restlessly. "Alright, fearless leader. What's the plan? Do we knock on their front door or blow it to hell?"
Ethan's golden eyes remained locked on the horizon. "Neither."