Almost.
Kaedryn’s wings quivered as her shoulders drew taut. “If we’re to stand together, we cannot face the future divided. There must be one to lead us—the First Keeper of the Ember Accord. One flame to carry the will of all. A single voice to bind the factions.”
Her gaze swept the gathered leaders, the illusion map still pulsing with lightning around the Maw, before settling on Serenna. “It should be one of the children of earth and starlight—someone who’s earned a place in every circle here. One whose name is already woven through every fire.”
Lykor sensed the refusal before Serenna even moved. He saw understanding flicker in her eyes, but she turned from it.
“If anyone bridges every faction, it’s Jassyn,” Serenna said, angling to face him.
Jassyn’s scar drew tight across his brow as he frowned, a single shake of his head denying it, but she went on.
“He’s lived at the crossroads between elves and mortals and is one of the few who carries Essence, earth, and the druid gift.”
Kaedryn exchanged a glance with Cinderax before speaking again, her voice carrying the weight of a verdict carved in stone. “The scalebound will follow if every leader here agrees he should bear the flame.”
Jassyn’s reaction nearly made Lykor flinch. The way he went still. The faint catch of breath that sounded like the first spark before everything burned.
“The rangers and magus will stand behind him,” Vesryn promised without hesitation. “Jassyn held the line with us—steadied me more than once.”
Jassyn shook his head again, more firmly now, as if the motion alone could keep the fire from spreading. “I’m not—” His voice cracked, eyes darting around the circle, searching for a way out. “I’m not even a ranger.”
“You fought beside us when the capital overran the stables,” Zaeryn countered. “You took Elashor down and are the reason we made it out. And before that, you spent weeks tending the wraith we pulled from the wilds—erasing the king’s coercion on their minds.”
Every muscle in Lykor braced when she didn’t look away from Jassyn. Not once.
This was how it began. The reverence. The expectation. The moment a name became a symbol.
They would turn Jassyn into what they needed to believe in. And if they made him the face of this alliance, it wouldn’t be power they handed him. It would be sacrifice. Marking him as a target, a beacon blazing from every side.
Jassyn didn’t need to be sanctified. He needed the world to stop breaking him open just to see what he’d give next.
But no one said any of that. Lykor’s jaw ached from holding back the words, dread uncoiling beneath his ribs.
All heads turned to Daeryn when he spoke. “My company would be at ease following one of our own.”
Color rose in Jassyn’s cheeks and the air itself seemed to lean toward him.
“Poetic, isn’t it?”Aesar’s voice slid in Lykor’s thoughts like a blade oiled in irony.“They raise up the one who’s borne every shackle of the realm.”
“IT’S A FUCKING SENTENCE DRESSED IN CEREMONY,”Lykor growled.“THE GREATEST SHACKLE OF ALL.”
Jassyn turned toward Lykor—desperate and searching—like a pleading look alone might keep the decision from becoming final. As if Lykor were the last one who could smother the fire before it settled on his brow like a crown.
“I don’t have ties to the wraith,” Jassyn said, the words tumbling now.
Breath punched from Lykor’s chest, a collapse hollowing him from the inside out. What gutted him was that Jassyn still didn’t see it. That Lykor was already his to command.
Lykor felt the weight of every gaze, the verdict balanced on his word. He shut his eyes, wishing darkness could delay the moment. But it was too late. Jassynwasthe best choice.
All he could do now was try to shield him from the burn.
When Lykor opened his eyes, he didn’t look at the others, only at Jassyn. He hated himself when he saw the fear flickering in the amber, the fragile hope that this might still end differently. That Lykor would step in and stop it.
He’d never wanted to follow anyone before. But he did now. Not because Jassyn had asked, but because every fool in this circle had just placed the burden of leadership in his hands as if it wouldn’t scorch him.
“You have the wraith,” Lykor said at last. Unraveling. Surrendering. His voice broke on the last truth he had left to give. “You have me.”
CHAPTER 28
