Rian hasn’t moved. Arms crossed. Eyes sharp. He’s been silent, but not passive—watching, absorbing. Then, finally, he speaks. His voice is calm. Controlled.
“If this is true . . . and now we find all of these scrolls and maps from the Shadow Clan—” His gaze flicks to the journal in Valen’s hands. “Then this isn’t just about you, Thane. This is about the entire realm.”
And I know, deep down, he’s right. Because some truths don’t just shift our path. They shift the ground beneath everyone’s feet.
Jarek is quiet. Jaw set. Hands flexing like he’s holding himself still. Then—he exhales sharply through his nose, dragging a hand through his blonde hair.
“Do you understand what this means?” His voice cuts—quiet, but sharp beneath. “What will happen if people find out?” His gaze is steady, not judgmental, but heavy with warning. “You’ve spent your life proving your worth to the Fire Clan. Earning their loyalty. If this gets out, you and your family will be executed as traitors.” He shakes his head once. Final.
Garrick hasn’t spoken. He’s still, too still. It makes my stomach twist.
Finally, he shifts his weight, glancing up at Thane with an expression I can’t quite place. Then—he exhales a short, humorless breath.
“Hell, brother. You really don’t do anything the easy way, do you?”
The words could have been a joke. Could have had that usual ease, that Garrick charm that always smooths over the cracks in the world. But this time he doesn’t smile.
“I’m with Jarek on this.” He crosses his arms. “You won’t just lose the Fire Clan—you’ll lose the entire realm.”
Garrick pauses for a moment before stepping forward. Garrick, who has fought by Thane’s side longer than any of them. Garrick, who was there when Thane became warlord. Who has followed him without question, through every battle, every war, every impossible choice. And when he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, but unshakable.
“You should have told us sooner.” Not an accusation. Something heavier. Like grief dressed in loyalty. “We would have understood.” His gaze is steady, unwavering. “We would have carried this burden with you.”
His words land like a hammer, like a promise that was made long before this moment.
He doesn’t react. Just stares. He’s so still, his eyes locked on his second in command, his friend.
Garrick takes another step forward. “You need to hear me now. We would never have turned away from you.” His voice hardens. “We never will.”
A pause. Then he grips Thane’s shoulder, firm, absolute.
“We are the Phoenix Ring before we are Fire Clan.”
Jarek and Rian exchange a glance before both of them nod.
Thane lets go of my hand. And without a word, he steps forward and embraces Garrick. Garrick doesn’t hesitate. He grips Thane just as tightly, his hold firm, unwavering. There’s nothing dramatic about it, nothing spoken.
But I feel the weight of it. Of everything Thane has carried alone for so long. Of everything he thought he had to keep buried. Of the truth that should have separated them but instead, only makes their bond stronger.
Rian and Jarek step forward, clapping a solid hand on Thane’s back, his shoulder. A gesture of trust. Of acknowledgement. Of loyalty that does not waver. They hold the moment for a beat longer, the firelight flickering around them, casting their shadows long against the stone. Then, slowly, they step apart.
The silence stays. No one breaks it. But everything has changed.
Valen straightens, voice low. “It’s time to go. I’m sure the escort is wondering about our whereabouts.”
Garrick turns, skeptical. “Right. Just one problem.” He gestures vaguely toward the passage. “We can’t go back the way we came unless you feel like getting swallowed whole by that demon worm.”
The memory flashes back—stone walls, that crushing screech. No way out.
I look toward Lyra—just in time to see the color drain fromher face. She sways slightly, one hand pressing against her stomach. Too pale. Too still.
I step toward her, lowering my voice. “Lyra?”
She blinks quickly, like she’s trying to pull herself back, trying to shake it off. “I’m fine.”
She’s not. I see it in her mouth—tight, forced. She’s barely holding on.
I glance at Garrick. He’s already noticed. His gaze flicks over her, sharp, assessing. Without a word, he steps closer, his hand finding her elbow—gentle but firm, steadying her without making a show of it.
