Chapter
Thirty-Two
The council chamber beneath the east wing of the palace was unlike the grand throne room or the war halls. This room was quieter. Older. The walls were lined with pale green stone veined with silver and carved with the emblems of past monarchs. There was no gallery, no guards in sight. Only a central hearth, burning low with white-blue fire, and a circular stone table surrounded by high-backed chairs.
Thorne stood near the window alcove, arms folded, the heavy light of dawn creeping through the tall panes. His tunic was still open at the throat, a sword strapped across his back despite the peace of the palace. He hadn’t slept much, but the tension in his shoulders was no longer from fatigue. It was anticipation. Unease.
Beside him, Thaelyn moved with quieter purpose. She wore fitted black riding leathers now, embroidered at the shoulders with her dragon mark, her hair swept into a single braid that fell along her back. Her posture was straight, composed. But Thorne could see it in her eyes, the calculation, the weight of everything left unspoken.
The King entered from a side door, not with ceremony but quiet command.
King Varian was not a tall man, but his presence made up for his height. His dark hair, streaked with iron-gray at the temples, was neatly swept back from a stern face marked by a soldier’s life, sharp cheekbones, weather-creased lines, and eyes like obsidian. His tunicwas deep crimson, the crest of the crown-dragon stitched in gold across his chest.
“Sit,” he said simply, voice low and clipped.
Thorne took the chair to the King’s right, Thaelyn to his left. The fire behind them cast their shadows across the table.
“I’ll be brief,” King Varian said, steepling his fingers. “What I’m about to say does not leave this room, not yet.”
Thorne nodded once. “Understood.”
Varian’s eyes settled on Thaelyn, not unkindly, but with the weight of one who saw a symbol, not just a girl. “The realm is shifting. The uprising in the West was not isolated. My fleet intercepted a message bound for the Hollowlands. It contained coordinates, troop counts, and something older scrawled in the margins. Glyphs. Forbidden. Necromantic.”
Thaelyn tensed.
“They’re using dark magic,” Thorne said darkly.
The King nodded. “It’s more than that. They’re building something. A force that was thought extinct.” His eyes flicked to Thaelyn. “And now that your presence is known, and your Aether gift has manifested, what was once a political question has become a spiritual one.”
Thaelyn’s lips parted. “A spiritual question?”
“Magic like yours,” the King said, his voice lower now, “can reforge the ancient dragon bonds. Can break them. Can bring the dead back from the brink. And worse, Aether magnifies any elemental magic it touches. Fire becomes wildfire. Shadow becomes void. Water becomes ice that doesn’t melt. If the wrong hands find a way to corrupt Aether–”
He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to.
The silence was palpable.
“I’ve ordered that the Kaelthir Reckoning be moved forward,” King Varian continued. “If the dragons are ready to choose riders, we must be ready to receive them. Every bonded cadet becomes a new line of defense. We need wings in the air, even your first-years must be prepared to patrol by season’s end.”
Thorne exhaled slowly. “Some of them are ready. Most aren’t.”
“They’ll learn,” the King said. “Or they’ll die. Son, even empires fall. This war won’t wait for the right time.”
Thaelyn sat forward, brows furrowed. “We’ll ready them. What do you need us to do?”
“I want you to hold the line at Asgar,” he said, meeting her gaze. “The Asgar Training Academy is more than a training ground now. It’s the heart of what remains. If it falls, if the dragons fall, then so does the realm. The darkness will move in, and nothing will stop it.”
A silence occurred among them.
“There are whispers about you, Thaelyn,” the King said more softly. “Not just about your name or your power, but about what you could become. Some believe you are a weapon. Others believe something worse. A disruptor of balance.”
Thorne’s jaw clenched. “She’s not some weapon.”
The King looked at him. “No, but she will be hunted like one.”
Thaelyn’s fingers curled around the armrest. She forced her voice steady. “Then I’ll fight them.”
“You will,” Varian said. “But not alone, and not without guidance.”
