Chapter 13: Howl of the Fallen Banner

The Citadel burned green.

Above its blackened bones, smoke twisted into the night like a funeral shroud. From every window and fractured tower, screams echoed—not from pain, but from the unraveling of centuries of illusion.

Deep within the fortress, Theo sprinted through collapsing halls. His lungs burned. His sword arm was numb. Behind him, the cauldron chambers flared as Blood-Sap ignited, releasing centuries of forbidden alchemy into smoke and ash.

But the trap Garrick had left behind had one last breath.

A final rune flared beneath the floor—a failsafe.

The corridor sealed shut.

Stone crashed behind him. Theo skidded to a halt.

He was trapped.

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Outside, snow fell in a deafening hush.

Freya limped through the ruins, supported by Lark and two exiles, her armor scorched, blood dripping from her side.

“Theo,” she rasped. “Where is he?”

No one answered.

She stopped. Glared at them.

“Where?”

Lark swallowed. “He went underground. To destroy the cauldrons.”