The single word hung quiet, almost lost beneath the storm. Relief flickered first, sharp, undeniable. They would not be enslaved. Their remaining people would not be broken under Nightshade's rule. The humiliating mercy meant Silver Ridge would survive, at least for now. For that, some part of him wanted to feel grateful.
But relief curdled quickly into something far darker.
They had still lost. Six cities. Six territories rich with lineage, history, and bloodlines that could never be reclaimed once severed. It was not merely land, it was identity. The shape of what Silver Ridge had been, clawed away by the enemy who now held their fate in his jaws.
And it was Dakota who had stopped him.
