Kaelren stood at the edge of the dance, his darkness a sharp contrast to the swirling lights. Our eyes met across the spinning bodies, and somethingelectric passed between us.
Come,the dance seemed to whisper.Both of you. Show us what impossible looks like.
“This is definitely going to end badly,” Peeble observed from somewhere above. “Which means it’ll be entertaining. Carry on!”
The dancers parted, creating a path between us. The music slowed, deepened, became something that thrummed in my bones.
Kaelren took a step forward. Then another.
And I knew, with the certainty of someone who’d been warned by oracles, that this dance would change everything.
Or destroy everything.
With us, there never seemed to be a middle ground.
19
Kaelren
The council chamber hadn’t been made for comfort. Carved from the heart of the Thornwood Throne itself, it was a reminder that rebellion grew from pain. The walls wept sap that never dried, and the table was scarred from years of desperate planning and bitter arguments.
Tonight’s meeting needed to be different. We had perhaps two weeks before the convergence, and Auradelle was moving.
“She’s stabilizing,” Fenwick said, surprising me by not starting with criticism. The scarred rebel leader had lost half his face to Auradelle’s forces, and the remaining half perpetually scowled. “The anomaly, I mean. Her power grows, but it’s… controlled.”
“Controlled is generous,” Sarnyx added from across the room. “She turned reality into a garden in Vyn Hollow.”
“To save us,” I reminded them. “Without her intervention, the Hunt would have taken us all.”
Maris, the elderly strategist whose blind eyes somehow still managed to convey disapproval, leaned forward. “The question isn’t what she’s done, but what she’ll do. The convergence approaches. We need strategy, not sentiment.”
I stood, letting them see the corruption that had spread again during the walk here—black veins now visible up my neck, creeping toward my jaw.
“Strategy then,” I said, my voice rough. “Auradelle masses forces atthe Heartspire. Our scouts report three battalions of Crown guard, plus whatever abominations his pet mages have created. The outer walls are reinforced with wards. The inner sanctum…” I paused, remembering. “The inner sanctum is where he’ll try to force Elle to choose.”
“How do we breach it?” Fenwick asked, all business now.
“We don’t breach. We infiltrate.” I pulled out recent maps of the Heartspire we had thanks to a Crown guard who fled to join the rebellion after growing a conscience. “There are tunnels beneath the Heartspire, Root-carved passages that predate Auradelle’s rule. They were sealed when he took power, but—”
“But seals can be broken by someone the Root recognizes,” Maris added, her blind eyes somehow knowing exactly where to focus. “Or someone chosen by it.”
“Elle,” the Sage said from the doorway. They’d been observing quietly waiting to impart their wisdom to the group. “You’re planning to use her as a key.”
“I’m planning to give her options,” I corrected. “When the convergence comes, she’ll need every advantage we can provide.”
“What about the second wall?” Fenwick asked, spreading his own intelligence on the table. “Forty feet high, jagged spikes that burn Root-touched on contact. Your corruption especially would light up like a beacon.”
“That’s where you come in,” I said, looking at each of them. “We divide our forces. A direct assault on the main gates—loud, obvious, drawing their attention. Meanwhile, a smaller team uses the tunnels.”
“Suicide for the assault team,” Fenwick observed.
“Not if we time it right. Not if we coordinate with the convergence itself. The realm will be… unstable. Reality will be malleable. Elle’s not the only one who can take advantage of that.”
“You’re gambling everything on cosmic timing and underground passages that may not even be accessible,” Maris said quietly.
“Yes.”
“And if we fail?”
