My chest aches.
“She’s doing well,” Voren says quietly, and it’s the closest thing to reassurance he offers.
“She’s doing too much,” Dreven replies, voice a low rumble behind me. “Without the Order to guide her, she is on her own.”
“She’s trying to prove she’s not just ‘the sister,’” Dastian adds, and for once, there’s no humour. “She’s trying to prove she can do what you did.”
My jaw tightens.
I could fix this.
I could step through. I could appear in that cemetery, grab Rynna by the shoulders, and tell her to slow down. I could wipe the blood and ash off her life with a god’s hand and spare her the parts of this job that hollow you out.
I could.
But that’s not the point of choice.
That’s the point of control.
And I promised myself I wouldn’t become another Aethel.
So, I watch.
And I let Rynna be what she is now: the slayer of BlackFen Edge, chosen not by an Order but by the world’s need.
The sightline fades as Tabitha closes her hand.
“Any Order movement?” I ask because I have learned the universe doesn’t stop trying to bite you just because you won once.
Tabitha’s gaze slides to me. “Yes.”
Of course.
Dastian sits up straighter. Voren’s eyes sharpen. Dreven’s shadows tighten behind my shoulders like they’re listening.
Tabitha exhales, irritated. “Cormac is alive. Finnian is alive. They are not powerful, but they are connected. They are gathering old vows, old favours. They have allies.”
I lean forward slightly, resting my elbows on the armrests. “Where?”
“Belfast. A safehouse layered in warding and mundane camouflage. They are building something under a church.”
Dastian’s grin turns mean. “Oh, Ilovechurches.”
“No,” I say sharply, and the chamber stills. “No impulsive raids. Not yet.”
Dastian’s brows lift. “Who are you and what have you done with Nyssa Vale?”
“I’m still me,” I reply. “I just have a realm to hold together and a sister on Earth who doesn’t need her world set on fire because you got bored.”
His grin softens a fraction. “Fair.”
Dreven’s voice is quiet behind me. “You want to handle it.”
“Yes,” I say.
Not because I don’t trust them. Not because I’m trying to prove anything.
Because I’ve accepted what I am.
