Chapter 735 - Shadows at Ironleaf (4)

The smoke coiled upward from Ironleaf Fortress like a wounded serpent, its grey scales shimmering whenever a fresh tongue of flame licked through the shattered ramparts. Each lazy twist carried the scent of burnt pitch, charred timber, and something sweeter—cauterized flesh. Draven stood motionless beneath the broad canopy of an ancient oak, its trunk thick with lichen that glowed faintly in the failing light. The moss beneath his boots felt damp, spongy, almost warm—as though the forest itself were collecting the heat pouring out of the ruined stronghold.