Nyxariel rested beyond the sanctum walls, her wings spread to catch the Aether winds that circled the peak. She did not speak, but Thaelyn could feel her waiting. The door behind her opened. Vaelen Solen entered, robes whipping in the gusts of arcane wind. His face, usually unreadable, held tension today.
"The Queen sends word," he said. "The second moon will crest the Rift in less than two days. The sky has begun to thin at the edges of the Veil. Kaen is moving. We have received word that dark flames have been lit near the Veiled Marsh."
Thaelyn turned to him, her shoulders straighter now. "Then it will come to Aeromir first."
"You must be ready," the Watcher said. "Today, we begin the final weaving. You will learn to call the Aether not only through emotion, but through truth. Through memory. Through name."
"What name?" she asked, pulse quickening.
The Watcher lifted a single finger and pointed to her chest.
"Yours. The one buried beneath flame and storm. The one that binds the Veil."
The sigils flared to life around her feet. Vaelen stepped back. Nyxariel let out a low, rumbling cry. As Thaelyn closed her eyes, letting the light of the dome fill her vision, she felt it, not just the power of Serenya, but something older, something watching through time itself. Not a weapon. Not a queen. But a keystone. She began to speak the incantation. The mountain started to glow.
Chapter
Fifty-Five
Beneath the Asgar Training Academy, far below the carved towers and polished council halls, the air grew heavy with damp stone and secrets. Kaen moved through the winding tunnel beneath the eastern cliff, an ancient passage not recorded on any map, once used by the early founders of Asgar during the wars of unification. Now it served a darker purpose.
The walls whispered as he passed, old enchantments stirring in recognition of the blood he carried, the blood of kings. Yet another power coiled within him now, older and hungrier. He stopped at the threshold of a hidden chamber, its entrance veiled by cascading roots and a glimmering ward of illusion. He raised a gloved hand, letting his magic pulse through his palm, and the veil shimmered away.
Inside, the air thickened, touched by soot and spell-oil. Three figures waited within. The tallest stepped forward, wearing a cloak to obscure his face, but Kaen recognized the smooth movements, practiced and patient, the Archmage of the Severed Path, Vaelgor.
“You’re late,” the mage said, voice rasping like wind over bone.
Kaen didn’t flinch. “The Queen delayed the council. She saw something in her visions. I had to be careful.”
Vaelgor tilted his head. “Then she suspects.”
“She senses,” Kaen corrected. “But there’s a difference. And my father still refuses to see anything but the boy he raised.”
“Then the King is more blind than we feared.”
Kaen stepped into the chamber, unfastening the outer clasp of his cloak. Shadows flickered along the seams of the stone floor, runes half-buried under years of forgotten use. In the center of the room stood a vast basin filled with pitch-black water that swirled of its own accord.
“She’ll be weakened after the extraction,” Kaen said, eyeing the scrying pool. “The link with her dragon was nearly severed. We were close.”
“But not close enough,” Vaelgor said coldly. “You failed.”
“She wasn’t meant to be taken then,” Kaen snapped, heat rising to his tone. “That wasyourmove. A gamble to test the skies. And now they’re all watching.”
Another of the robed figures stepped forward, a woman with ink-stained fingers and a half-burned sigil across her neck. “We have waited too long, Prince. The blood moon draws near. The Rift begins to tremble. If she awakens fully, ”
“She won’t,” Kaen said. “Not if we strike now.”
He moved toward the basin, extending a hand over its surface. The black water shimmered, pulling upward into the shape of a long, narrow island surrounded by jagged peaks, a place cloaked by shadow, unreachable by ordinary dragonflight.
“She felt the storm,” he murmured. “But she hasn’t seen the eye yet.”
Vaelgor joined him. “You would bring her to the Hollow?”
Kaen nodded once. “Yes. The Aether girl cannot remain under the academy's protection. They’ve begun to unify behind her, cadets, commanders, even Thorne.” At the mention of the name, Kaen’s mouth thinned. The old jealousy stirred like embers, though it was no longer personal. Thorne had become more than a rival. He had become a threat.
“I’ll see her broken before the next moonrise,” Kaen said. “And him with her.”
“And the dragons?”
