The northern gates groaned open.
Ash stepped through first, sword still stained. The others followed behind him—limping, silent, bruised. And yet… alive.
Ironhold erupted.
Cheers poured from the walls like a wave. People screamed, clapped, cried. Some wept without sound. Others raised their arms, holding children high in the air like trophies.
Kael lifted both hands above his head, fire still flickering faintly on his fingertips.
"I told you,"
he called out, grinning.
"This was nothing with me around!"
Ash didn't answer. He watched the crowd instead.
A boy ran into his mother's arms, sobbing. An old man raised a cracked bottle in a shaking toast. Some faces looked stunned, as if waiting for the next blow that hadn't come.
They kept walking. The crowd parted, reaching out to touch them—proof that their protectors were real.
From somewhere inside the hold, Liam burst out of a side door.
