Chapter 35 The Citadel Of Cinders

• The Ashborn Citadel loomed like a wound upon the land.
• Carved into the dead heart of Mount Vargan, it pulsed with ancient flame and shadow magic. Smoke never ceased to pour from its jagged towers. Its blackened walls hummed with the whispers of countless souls trapped within—soldiers who had pledged themselves to the Ashborn King in death.
• Elara stood at the edge of the obsidian bridge leading to its gates, a cold wind swirling her cloak around her ankles. The world behind her was ash. The world before her, prophecy.