And for the first time since my entry to the guild?—
I didn’t know if I was meant to survive this.
Or burn it all down.
Chapter
Eleven
The words still echoed in my ears.
You are the destroyer.
I should’ve been frozen, terrified. But something in me moved instead—needed more.
More truth. More answers.
I turned to Alahathrial, my voice tight and raw. “What did you mean… Zander’s the key? The king’s been searching for him? Why?”
Alahathrial’s gaze softened—not with pity, but with the weight of revelation. “Zander was born to gain access to the Fae Sanctuary,” he said, like it was the most obvious truth in the world.
Zander stiffened beside me.
“It’s the only way to end this war,” Alahathrial continued. “To recapture the Blood Throne, or what it was before the dark magic defiled it. The throne was never meant to be a seat of corruption. It was sacred. Meant to bridge two worlds. But once it was touched by that old destructive magic, twisted and buried, it became what you know now.”
He looked toward the wall, as if he could see beyond it. “They call it the Blood Throne now. But that wasn’t its name. Not before it was desecrated.”
I stepped forward. “How do we reach the Fae Sanctuary?”
“I don’t know.” Alahathrial admitted it without hesitation, without shame. “Only that it takes two bloodlines. Two ancient magics.”
He looked between us.
“The power of Dark Flame…” His eyes rested on me. “And that of a Storm Reaper.”
Zander let out a breath, slow and measured. “You think our magic combined can open it?”
“I don’t think,” Alahathrial said, pacing slightly now. “Ihope. You’ve both already done what should be impossible. You’re bonded to dragons that should have refused you. You’ve survived trials that were meant to break you. Your magics… are converging.”
I glanced at Zander. “What would happen if we merged them?”
“Dark Flame and Storm Magic?” He shook his head. “I don’t know. Something violent. Or something divine.”
We stood in silence for a moment, the air charged with too many unknowns.
“Could it tear the fabric between the realms?” I asked quietly.
“Could itmendit?” Zander countered.
But neither of us had answers.
Alahathrial stopped pacing, hands folding before him like a priest before an altar. “When the time is right… you’ll know what to do.”
It wasn’t comforting.
But something inside me believed him.
And that was worse.
