The data floods in, and my heart stops.
"What is it?" Skye demands, his essence already picking up on my horror. "Ambrose, what's wrong?"
"The other academies." My voice sounds distant, disconnected. "Dmitri launched coordinated attacks while I was unconscious. Thirteen reformed institutions hit simultaneously. Most of them held, but..."
I can't say it. Can't make the words come out.
Harlow's death-sight activates, his eyes going white as he sees what I can't bring myself to speak. "Eight students dead. Twelve faculty members. Dozens more injured." His voice is hollow. "The attacks happened last night. While we were safe here, protected by your contracts, other sanctuaries were being slaughtered."
The room goes silent.
Eight students. Twelve faculty. People who trusted the reforms, who believed they could finally be themselves without fear. Dead because Dmitri's followers chose murder over accepting change.
"This isn't your fault." Skye's hands cup my face, forcing me to look at him. "You were unconscious. You couldn't have known."
"I should have set up protections for them too. Should have written contracts for every academy, not just ours." The words taste like ash in my mouth. "I was so focused on Phoenix Sanctuary that I forgot about everyone else. And now twenty people are dead because I wasn't good enough."
"Stop." Stellan's fire flares, not with rage but with fierce determination. "You nearly killed yourself protecting this sanctuary. You can't save everyone, Ambrose. No one can."
"A Crossroads Keeper should be able to." I pull away from Skye, forcing myself to sit up despite the pain. "That's the whole point. We write contracts, we pay prices, we make the impossible happen. And I failed. Twenty people are dead because I failed."
My mates' grief bleeds into my own, amplifying it. None of them try to argue anymore. They know I need to feel this, need to process the weight of what happened while I was unconscious.
But Jade, practical as always, asks the question we're all thinking. "What happens now? Dmitri's not going to stop. If anything, this proves his followers are still dangerous."
I force my mind to work, to think past the weight crushing my chest. "The Council will demand answers. The reforms will be questioned. Some members will try to use this as justification for rolling everything back, returning to the old system." I look at Skye. "You're going to have to fight for everything we've built. And you're going to have to do it while Dmitri's people are still out there, still planning more attacks."
Skye's jaw tightens with determination. "Then I fight. It's what a Praestes does."
"Not alone," Rumi says firmly. "We all fight. Together."
I want to protest, to insist that this is my burden to carry because I'm the one who failed. But looking at my five mates, seeing their fierce refusal to let me carry this alone, I realize something I should have understood a long time ago.
I'm not alone anymore. Haven't been since we bonded. And trying to carry everything myself isn't protecting them. It's pushing them away.
"Okay," I say quietly. "Together."
Harlow's cold hand finds mine, squeezing gently. "There will be an emergency Council session. Probably tomorrow. Skye willneed to answer for the attacks, even though they weren't his fault. The political situation is about to get very ugly."
"I can write protection contracts for the Council members who supported us," I offer, already calculating the costs. "Make sure Dmitri's people can't target them."
"No." Skye's voice is firm. "You're not writing anything else until you've recovered. I mean it, Ambrose. Whatever contracts we need, we find another way to pay for them. You've given enough."
His absolute certainty washes over me. He's not asking. He's telling me, with all the Praestes authority he possesses.
The argument rises in my throat. My contracts are our best defense, the costs worth paying if it keeps everyone safe. But I'm too tired to fight, and some part of me knows he's right.
"Fine," I concede. "But if things get bad, if people are going to die because I'm sitting here doing nothing..."
"Then we find another way," Jade interrupts. "One that doesn't involve you killing yourself slowly for the rest of us."
The conversation shifts to logistics. Skye outlines the Council session that's coming, the arguments he'll need to make. Harlow shares what his death-sight reveals about potential futures. Rumi offers to use his divine balance to help coordinate with the other reformed academies. Stellan volunteers to work with the students on defensive training, making sure Phoenix Sanctuary stays ready for whatever comes next.
And I sit in the middle of my mates, listening to them plan, their love wrapping around me like armor.
Twenty people are dead. The political situation is about to explode. Dmitri's followers are still out there, still dangerous.
But we're still here. Still fighting. Still together.
