The Return

Elsbeth.

Two weeks had passed since the tournament, and already, MoonHaven looked changed. Grown. Hardened.

The moment I passed through the city's Western gate, a strange mix of pride and dread welled up in me. The air smelled of progress—fresh-hewn lumber, scorched iron from the forges, the acrid tang of pitch sealing seams in the fortification walls. It was a scent that spoke of war. Preparation. Survival. Outside the city they were also building trenches filled with sharped metal stakes to try to limit where they could be attacked with an extra layer of defensive barriers.

Guards in mismatched armour patrolled the inner streets now, not just wanderers with strong shoulders and good intentions. They were mine—some from the capital, others once unclaimed—now united under one banner, training together in drills and defence formations. They didn't yet move like a single body, but the bones were there. I could feel it.