Seren stood at the window, watching the soldiers assemble below. Young faces. Fresh armour… Wolves and humans, newly trained. Their parents had wept when they enlisted. Their siblings had hugged them tight. Some had left letters behind, sealed with wax, addressed to families who might never open them.
Kael came up behind her, his hand on her shoulder. "You've been standing there for an hour."
"I'm wondering."
"Wondering about what?"
"How many will come back." Her voice was flat. "The young one with the red hair. The wolf girl who can't be older than sixteen. The human boy who was a servant in the kitchens last year. Now carrying a sword."
Kael was silent. She felt his grief through the bond—not hidden, not suppressed, just held. Like a blade he knew he would need to draw, sharp and waiting.
