“Someone has to be,” Bastian said with a devious smile.
“Come on, you three—we’ve got a meeting to get to,” Gabe called up. He joined Bastian at the bottom of the ridge, Ronan and Niz waiting in the distance.
I arched my brow. “Already? I thought we had at least an hour.”
Gabe gave a quiet laugh. “You’ve been standing here long enough for the sun to nearly give up.”
I squinted toward the horizon, trying to find the sun through the forested trees—it hung low, its light close enough to sunset that I knew it had been atleastan hour.
“And if we don’t get there first, the factions will probably start fighting,” Steele muttered.
“Exactly that,” Gabe said in agreement. “Come on.”
Steele’s hand lingered against mine as we started down the ridge to join them. The air around us still thrummed, thick and restless, as if the world itself were holding its breath.
Something was coming; we just didn’t know from where.
As we crossed the camp together, my gaze swept over the organized chaos around us. Ronan and Niz—fresh from watching a group of Alfemir and Rebellion soldiers' joint training session—fell into step with Bastian and Gabe as we made our way toward the central command tent.
The forested range stretched wide beneath the canopy, our new base tucked deep within it. Lanterns blinked to life one by one, filling the forest with the mingled scents of sweat, metal, and the faint sweetness of an early afternoon rain that still clung to the leaves.
Rows of tents lined the trees, banners and sigils marking each factions’ territory. Training fields bordered our designated camp, while the forges burned low and steady near the center, hammers hitting steel echoing through the air.
For all the noise and movement around me, a heavier stillness pressed beneath it—quiet and constant, sitting somewhere deep in my chest. I slowed, pressing a hand to my chest as my heart thudded hard against my palm, far too fast.
“Little Star, if you need to rest still—” Gabe started.
I shook my hands out, shoved them into my jacket pockets, and gave a small shake of my head. “We’ve been in motion since before the sun was up. It feels wrong to stop now.”
And it wasn’t really possible, not with the meeting ahead demanding every bit of focus I had left.
Gabe offered a nod of understanding and wrapped an arm around me, tucking me into his side as we walked. The others followed close behind, the soft squelch of damp leaves filling the space between us.
We reached a small rise overlooking the central command tent. Banners from each faction hung around the massive tent: Alfemir, the Rebellion, and the wyverns.
The air thickened as we descended, a low hum of tension rising from the tent ahead—too many people, too many fears, their voices blending into a single, restless murmur beyond the canvas wall. Gabe met my gaze as we reached the entrance and stepped in beside me, his hand finding mine in a brief, steadying squeeze before he let go.
Time to plan what feels like the end of the world.
The main tent had become the heart of our war efforts. Inside, a long table dominated the center, maps and documents spread across its surface while faction banners rippled from where they hung above it. The six of us moved into position once through the doorway.
I took my place near the table opposite Noah. Ronan stood at my right, fingers tracing the edge of the map as Steele settled across from him, calm radiating from his steady posture. Gabe joined Noah over an open tome, their focus already locked onstrategy, while Bastian lingered behind the chairs, too restless to sit. Niz remained near the entrance, eyes shifting between the inside of the tent and the camp beyond. Standing there among them, I felt the same strange mix I always did now—pride of who we’d become tangled with dread of what was to come.
One by one, the others gathered for the meeting, stepping in from the tent’s outskirts toward the table. Each bore a small sigil stitched to their uniform, a symbol of the affinity they represented or a crest denoting the wyvern or Rebellion forces.
Noah and Amelia led the Rebellion’s delegation, Amelia taking the seat beside him while Birdie Summers—the council member who oversaw Rebellion security—stood just behind them.
After them came the wyvern queen and king with their commander, Joshua, one of Niz’s most trusted allies. I hadn’t known his name before, only remembered him as the friendly presence who’d stood outside Niz’s door when his former fiancée tried to reach my wyvern. Seeing him here now, standing at their side, reminded me of how deeply the wyverns were committed to saving Alfemir. It was good to see a friendly face in the middle of so much uncertainty.
Archangel Astor joined next with the Angelic Army’s representative at her side, their white leathers catching the lanternlight inside the tent. The Elementalists’ representative, Mithrie, followed soon after, and Ronan was joined by the Beast Tamer representative, who took position beside us.
Standing a step back from the table, a group of affinity specialists completed the circle: the Caster, Divine Weaponsmith, Potion Master, and Text Keeper representatives—the last already poised with pen and paper to record every word.
For a moment, I just stood there, taking it in: the flicker of lanternlight across their faces, the burn of focus in every pair ofeyes. These were the people who would save our world from the upper triads by sheer will.
“I want to address something before we begin.” My voice was steady, cutting through the quiet until the room turned toward me. “We all know the weight of the past. Things won’t be normal overnight. Combining forces like this isn’t easy, but if we start breaking apart before the upper triads even arrive, we save them the trouble—and none of us survive that way.”
“There isn’t room for ego in this,” Steele said, voice low and certain.
