Kael shoved the fabric aside. And found it.
A small mirror, no bigger than a dinner plate, ringed in moonstone.
Still warm with dream-magic. Alarik’s magic.
This had been how he began to watch her. How he found her. How he crept into her mind.
Kael’s heart thundered against his ribs, fists trembling.
This wasn’t just war. This was a gods-damned invasion of her soul.
Kael didn’t hesitate. With one swipe of his hand, he shattered the mirror into dust. But the damage had already been done.
And now… the game was no longer about kingdoms.
It was about her.
He turned from the smoldering ruin, eyes glowing silver in the dark.
If Alarik wants a war, he’ll get one. But Kael would not play by rules.
He would write new ones in blood.
Chapter twenty-six
The Decision
-Alarik-
The fire crackled in the war room’s hearth, spitting embers into the perfumed air, but Alarik barely noticed. His gaze was locked on the parchment in his hands, thin, slightly bloodstained, and still warm from its courier’s arrival.
Kael had slaughtered an entire outpost, one he had visited only days ago.
It was not a tactical maneuver on Kael's part but a massacre.
Alarik smiled, slow and serpentine.
“Strike a King, and he forgets he's not a god,” he murmured, tossing the letter aside onto the polished table beside a half-drunk goblet of bloodwine.
Zairon stood at the window, arms crossed. “You’ve poked a wolf in his den.”
“I kissed the soul he guards like a starving hound,” Alarik replied, eyes dancing with quiet malice. “The den was always going to burn.”
Zairon didn’t return the grin. “That outpost was a risk.”
“They were all risks. I only regret the mirror. It gave me the cleanest connection.” Alarik swirled his goblet thoughtfully.
He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. And there it was — the tether.
Delicate as silk. Invisible to any eye but his own. And yet — a living thing.
Maris.
Her essence sang to him like a cursed harp. Something ancient and half-woken, wrapped in too-human fragility. He’d left fragments of his power inside her with every dream. Every whispered word. Every curious glance she cast inward.
It had been subtle at first, just threads. A hint of faelight to test the soil.
But now?
