“Niz—Creator above.” His father stood a moment later, the chair legs scraping softly against the floor. The composure of a king faltered as his gaze swept over his son, then the rest of us. “Son, Kieran—all of you. I’m relieved you’re alive.”
“A Dominion,” Niz’s mother breathed, her voice catching halfway between disbelief and fear. She rose to her feet, her hands tightening around the edge of the table as her brow dipped in agitation. “Here, in Alfemir? That’s almost impossible to believe.”
Niz moved closer, as he offered them both looks of understanding. “Yet very real,” he said quietly to his mother before turning to his father. “And our survival is thanks to the angels who stood beside us—in defiance of the triad.”
I could tell his words were a deliberate reminder for his parents of the new order taking shape around this table. This was no longer about kingdoms or past bloodshed—it was about survival. We were one team now, and while I appreciated why he said it, I didn’t doubt their commitment for a second.
“Please, all of you, come sit,” Archangel Astor said, motioning with her uninjured arm. The authority in her tone carried even through the weariness painting her face.
We took our seats, and my gaze swept across the table. Beside the scattered maps sat stacks of Noah’s tomes, their pages marked and smudged with ink—valuable knowledge, but unfortunately, none of it held the answer to the problem staring back at us.
Noah leaned forward, his voice low but weighted with resolve. “We need to talk about what happens next—about the triad, and whether we’re truly prepared to face them.”
The words hit like a physical weight, because the obvious truth sat between us anyway, sharp and undeniable.We weren’t ready.
I shifted in my seat and stated the obvious. “If it takes that many of us to stand against one Dominion. How are we supposed to face more?”
Not to mention that our fiercest Archangel had been thrown aside as if she was nothing.
The realization of our reality made my chest tighten as I sat beside my men, bone-tired and overwhelmed. Despite that, I forced myself to straighten, to look like the leader everyone in this room expected, even when the fatigue in my bones begged me to rest. It didn’t matter how much sleep I’d gotten the night before; a deeper depletion sunk through all of us.
First Alfemir. Now this. How much more could we give before something finally broke? Let alone, the prophecy’s weight that pressed down on me like a constant pulse.
“If we’re going to fight the triad, we need to bring the Rebellion back here—to where it began,” Amelia announced, seeming determined to craft a path forward.
Beside me, Steele went still. I knew he agreed with her, but I also knew what that silence meant. He was protective of the Rebellion, of every soul in it, and the thought of putting them in the Dominion’s path was enough to tighten his entire frame.
His jaw flexed once, and I could almost feel the argument on his tongue. I reached beneath the table, brushing his knee in quiet understanding. When his hand slid over mine and gave a firm squeeze, I met his gaze with a small, knowing look—a silent promise that I understood.
“But…” Amelia’s gaze moved across the others gathered. “They’ll hesitate. They were exiled from Alfemir—either forced to fall themselves or raised by families who had been driven from their homes. Convincing them to return here won’t be easy. Convincing them to fight a war against the triad, not just Alfemir, may be even harder.”
Steele straightened beside me, his voice hardening. “They’ll need something to fight for again, something that proves this isn’t a suicide mission.”
“They’ll need hope,” Amelia said quietly. “Hope for what Alfemir could become to them—for the chance to be welcomed back and to find a place within its new order.”
Hope.
The word scraped through me like grit in an open wound and I closed my eyes for a beat, tasting the fear it brought. My mind flashed with images of what the upper triads could do to Alfemir: the skyline on fire, angel wings cutting through smoke, the stench of burning flesh within the heat of flame. And yet, beneath the dread ofwhat if, I clung to the truth.
We didn’t have a choice. Wehadto fight them, just as wehadto save the stars. It wasn’t optional, it simply was.
Before I could speak, Mithrie leaned forward. “If they hesitate, remind them what’s at stake,” she explained softly. “The upper triads won’t stop with Alfemir. They know the fallen have been here. They’ll hunt them next. This war ends within these walls, or it won’t end at all.”
Her words cracked through the tension and drew slow, grim nods around the table. I felt the room tighten with determination, attention snapping back to the logistics that would makehopepossible.
“As we pledged before, our warriors will fly beside you in the sky,” Niz’s mother said, voice resolute and commanding. “Those who cannot fight—the merchants, the young, the scholars, and others like them—will remain in the mountains under guard.”
Niz spoke up then, measured and deliberate. “But much like those in the Rebellion, many of our kind haven’t left the forest in generations. They were taught to fear what lies beyond. The soldiers will follow orders, but convincing the others to march into war may be a test for many.”
Steele looked at Niz in consideration before nodding sharply in understanding. “Then the Rebellion will lead by example. Our people will see what’s possible in Alfemir only if they come up here and fight for its future. Hopefully that will inspire the wyverns as well.”
I let his words hang for a moment before folding my hands on the table, steadying my voice into the calm I wanted them to follow. “We’ll promise more than victory—to everyone involved, even those living in Alfemir. When the battle is over, we’ll offer them a place to rebuild, not just a banner to fight beneath. We’ll show them there’s something worth coming home to.”
The plan was small—barely developed in my head—but there was something concrete growing there, something that could truly work.
“The first Rebellion unit can start arriving within thirty-six hours if we send word tonight,” Amelia promised.
“If they see the Rebellion standing beside the soldiers of Alfemir, our people may be more inclined to join the cause,” Niz’s father added, his tone measured but hopeful.
