“Faelan’s extraction team used modified royal court signatures,” Evren says, pointing to symbols on the palace layout. “The timing wasn’t random. They’ve been watching, waiting for the perfect moment of vulnerability.”
I lean over the maps, scanning entry points. “Where would they take her?”
“The Silverthorne family quarters, initially,” Evren replies. “But for the ceremony? Here.” He points to a massive crystalline chamber near the palace center. “I’ve heard through my channels that the Marriage Tribunal convenes in less than eighteen hours.”
Nyxiana enters, frost magic still crackling around her fingertips. Her eyes meet mine briefly—she understands exactly what’s happening to me. I can see it in her expression.
“I saw him,” I say, the words rough. “Phil Dawson’s face, right before she was taken. Just for a second through the shattered wall before he vanished.”
The reaction is immediate. Nova’s expression hardens into something dangerous. Dane’s fists clench. Derek’s jaw tightens. Rhonan moves closer, battle-ready tension radiating from him. Ben and Kari exchange sharp glances—they remember what fighting that bastard cost us.
“Faelan.” I spit the name like poison. “It was him. Behind all of it—the contamination, Caelynn, the surveillance, now this.”
“Bold move,” Ben growls. “Using the same persona after we already exposed him once.”
Frost crackles faintly as Nyxiana steps forward. The temperature in the room seems to drop with her focus. “Faelan’s magical signature is unmistakable,” she says, sliding her findings beside Evren’s intelligence. “He’s gotten bolder—leaving traces that any skilled practitioner could identify.”
“Or he wanted us to know,” Ben mutters, joining the portal specialists. His military mind is already translating magical theory into tactical planning.
Pack warriors gather around the room’s edges, watching. Waiting. Ready to follow me into hell if I ask it. The weight of their loyalty should comfort me, but all I can feel is the jagged, burning pain where Lyanna should be.
The lead portal specialist turns from the window, locking eyes with Nyxiana. “We can recreate the pathway. Faelan’s signature left clear dimensional coordinates. Portal magic is possible.”
I stand paralyzed for a moment as her words sink in. Portal coordinates. A way to Lyanna.
“Could be a trap,” Ben says, voicing what everyone’s thinking. “Faelan left those signatures deliberately.”
“Maybe.” Dane’s jaw tightens. “But we’re not leaving her there regardless.”
The burning wound in my chest ignites with new purpose. The pain’s still there, but now I can use it.
“How soon?” I demand, moving to the war table.
Nova’s expression turns grave. “Time moves differently in Gleann na Sidhe. For every hour that passes there, seven hours pass here on Earth—time moves faster for us.” She lets that sink in before continuing. “The wedding is set for tomorrow, midday in fae time. That’s roughly eighteen fae hours—which translates to about five days here.”
“Five days,” Ben says, some tension easing from his shoulders.
“Don’t get comfortable.” Nyxiana’s voice cuts through the brief relief. “The portal signatures are already degrading. The longer we wait, the harder it becomes to recreate the pathway. And Faelan’s already moving—the kidnapping proves his network alerted him when his spy went dark.”
“He locks everything down,” Dane finishes grimly. “We go at first light. Use the time difference to our advantage—hit them when they’re not expecting it.”
Ben spreads out a map marked with entry points that Evren’s portal specialists identified. His fingers trace a precise path through the palace gardens.
“Small strike team,” he says, voice clipped and professional. “Five, maybe six. Any larger and we risk detection before extraction.” He taps a location near private chambers. “Insertionhere, hours before the ceremony, when security transitions for the preparations.”
“Guards change patterns during ceremony preparations,” Evren adds, leaning over the map. “There’s a window when surveillance shifts focus to the ceremonial chambers. That’s our opening.”
Nyxiana steps forward. “The portal recreation is possible, but it requires massive power channeling. I’ll need at least four other magic users working simultaneously to stabilize the pathway.”
Dane nods. “I’ll reach out to Elysia and Lachlan—have them summon two of the portal guardians stationed near Gleann na Sidhe. If they respond quickly, they can anchor the outer wards before we open the gate.”
“I’ll coordinate communications,” Derek says, laying small, enchanted, devices on the table. “These will allow team members to stay in contact across realms. Short-range but effective.”
Nova moves beside Evren, studying the palace layout. “The ceremony follows strict protocols. Seven binding moments—invocation, oath seal, energy binding, judgment call, decree, final chant, ascension flare.” She taps two points. “Here and here—the tribunal will be most vulnerable to legal challenge.”
“I’m going,” I state.
“Then you pick your team,” Dane says. “Small and fast. Six, maybe seven.”
