I nodded. “Let’s go.”
But as I turned to follow him, my gaze caught on one of the throne runes. The lines of it seemed to pulse with awareness. A memory stirred—Callan in his tent, his eyes dark and tired as he said,Heliconia wants my throne.The pieces were starting to fit together, and I didn’t like the picture they made.
Rydian’s voice came from somewhere ahead, distant but clear. “Aurelia.”
I tore my eyes from the glowing mark and followed the sound.
The tunnel narrowed again, forcing us into a single line. The quiet stretched, broken only by the drip of water and the scrape of boots against stone.
No one spoke. Even Slade kept his jokes to himself. The tension hung too heavy for levity.
When we reached the next junction, Thorne found me. “You were right to stop him,” he said quietly. “But it won’t be the last time you have to. Not with how determined those soldiers are to stir trouble.”
I sighed. “I know.”
He hesitated, then added, “The others won’t say it, but what you did back there—the serpent, the healing—some of them see it as proof of what you are. Not a curse. A sign.”
“Of what?”
“That the gods haven’t abandoned us after all.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
We left the chamber behind, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that the mountain was watching us. That the runes weren’t relics at all, but eyes—old, patient, and very much awake.
Chapter Thirty
Rydian
We’d been walking for what felt like forever; hours stretched into an eternity of stone walls and the steady drip of unseen water. Then, suddenly, the air changed. Colder. Thinner. The scent of fresh pine bleeding through the cracks ahead.
Eirnan raised a hand. We stopped. The faintest thread of moonlight filtered through a fissure in the rock wall, illuminating his gaunt face as he turned to me.
“We’re here,” he whispered.
Through the split, I could see a valley below, washed in silver light. Heliconia’s army spread across it like a plague.
The war camp was vast—tents in rows that went on forever, where they vanished into the darkness, the faint glint of frost-coated armor crawling along the perimeter. The ground itself was layered with snow and ice—a blanket of frozen death if one stayed too long.
Then there was the wind. It whistled keenly through the fissure, whipping through the pines that dotted the hillside.
“Gods,” Slade murmured behind me. “There must be thousands down there.”
“Closer to five,” Eirnan said grimly. “And that’s just the front lines. Who knows how many more monsters she has stashed in those mountains?”
The sight of it stole my breath. I’d known. After years of skirmishes along the Autumn border, the raids along trade routes, the intel from our scouts, I’d known she was building a vast force. But seeing it with my own eyes—here, on the edge of Autumn’s doorstep—was enough to make me pause.
Aurelia stepped forward to see for herself. The moonlight caught the gold in her hair, turning her into something too bright for this cursed place. I wanted to pull her back into the shadows, out of sight, out of danger. But that would be a fool’s move. One I’d already made too many times.
Aurelia was born to march into that nightmare, not hide from it.
And I was born to march beside her.
Her voice was steady as she surveyed the Obsidian ranks. “The barracks in the northeast corner are more heavily guarded than the rest. Do you think that’s where they’re keeping Lesha?”
I scanned until I found the structure in question, noted the posted guards, all armed despite being inside the safety of the camp.
“Or it’s Heliconia’s private quarters,” I said.
