Commander Dareth’s jaw clenched as he cradled her. Somewhere far above, her dragon screamed. Kaen, bruised and seething, vanished into the Rift.
Chapter
Sixty
The war room pulsed with threads of starlight and shadow. Ancient maps littered the stone table like worn memories, their ink smudged from generations of hands that had once believed the Veil would never fall. But now, beneath the double rise of the blood moons, the old belief had crumbled like ash in the wind.
Queen Elyria stood at the head of the chamber, the lamplight casting golden warmth across her silver-streaked hair. She was still recovering, and her power was almost fully restored. The sigil of the Watcher burned low on her skin, a living star hidden beneath layers of flesh.
The war council ringed the table: Commander Dareth, flanked by Thorne, Brynnek, Aerisya and General Solas, her uniform marred with dragon ash. Vaelen Solen was present with scrolls clutched tight in one hand, and Sorren Vex, quiet in the shadows, always listening.
"We cannot defend Aeromir with swords alone," Elyria said, her voice calm, unwavering. "Kaen comes not merely with soldiers, but with twisted forces from beyond the Rift. We face a storm of shadows, the dead and necrotic flame."
Vaelen unrolled a map etched with ley lines. "They’ll aim for the Watcher’s Tower first. Without them, the barrier around the Eye collapses. If thathappens–"
"Then the Rift bleeds fully into our realm," the Queen finished. "And the world tears in half."
Thorne's jaw flexed. "What do we have to counter it?"
Elyria lifted her hand, and the flame of the closest lamp bent toward her fingers, drawn by the Aether in her blood.
"We have the sigils of the Old Guard, hidden beneath Aeromir’s foundation. I will awaken them. Commander Dareth, you will hold the northern cliffs. I trust no one else to lead that line."
"Brynnek and Aerisya," Elyria turned next, "you know the wildpaths better than any. Lead your squads through the canyon trails. Guard the flanks. Use the roots and rise against their flank when the battle thickens."
"Yes, Your Grace. We’ll make the cliffs burn beneath their boots."
Elyria turned to Vaelen next. "You and I will perform the Warding Rite beneath the heartstone of Aeromir. We must restore the net of sigils. It will buy us time."
"But it will cost you," Vaelen said softly. "It always does."
Elyria met his eyes. "Everything costs."
Thorne stepped forward. "And Thaelyn?"
The Queen did not flinch. "She must not fight until the moons reach their zenith. The Aether within her is still stabilizing. If she draws on it too soon, it could burn her from within."
"She won't stand aside," Thorne said. "You know that."
Elyria allowed herself the smallest, saddest smile. "That will be her choice, which is why you must be ready to anchor her. If the prophecy is true."
"The moment will come when we must choose," Thorne murmured. "Between saving each other and saving the world."
The room fell into silence. Even the wind outside stilled, as if the skies themselves paused to listen.
"Tonight, we prepare," the Queen said, her voice gathering steel again. "At dawn, we fight."
She turned and swept from the room, the stars catching in her cloak like sparks. Behind her, the war council began its quiet work,folding strategies into silence, hope into steel. Beneath the fortress, the old sigils began to glow.
Chapter
Sixty-One
The cliffs of Aeromir trembled with anticipation as the final clouds of twilight bled into the horizon. Crimson light from the twin blood moons stained the sky in hues of omen. Fires burned atop the Watcher Spires, not for warmth, but as signals. Across the valley, the ridges were alive with motion, black-leather-clad soldiers tightening gear, dragons restless and pawing at the stone platforms, and ancient banners whispering in the wind that carried ash and prophecy alike.
Thaelyn stood beside Nyxariel, the dragon’s wings half-furled, her silver-blue scales catching the light like storm-washed steel. Her expression was unreadable, but power churned under her skin, the sigil from the Watcher burning faintly across her spine. The Aether within her thrummed like a second heartbeat. She reached up, brushing her palm down Nyxariel’s neck.
"You feel it too," she whispered.
