As soon as we land, I want to head to the castle archives,Zander’s voice slipped into my mind, calm but with a thread of urgency.
Do you want to come?
Yes,I responded.But we should bring Cordelle too.
Agreed,he said, and I could feel the approval in his tone.
The dragons rose in unison, the sky cracking with their ascent. Behind us, the Blood Isle disappeared into mist, and ahead, the war waited for our next move.
ChapterThirty-Nine
We landed hard on the Ascension Grounds, the sun already leaning westward in the sky.
The others didn’t speak as we moved in sync, removing saddles from our dragons and slinging them across the rail posts lining the edge of the grounds. Kaelith stretched her wings, casting a violet shadow across the ground. The tension from the sanctuary still lingered in the air, but she didn’t seem to care.
Zander faced the group, his voice firm but quiet. “I’m taking Ashe and Cordelle to the archives.”
Remy crossed his arms. “I’m coming too.”
Zander arched a brow. “That’s not necessary.”
Remy didn’t budge. “I have unrestricted access. If anyone questions what you’re doing there, I can handle it. You’re not Theron’s favorite person right now.”
Zander’s jaw ticked at the remark, but he nodded. “Fine. It might actually draw less attention. But he won’t expect us back so soon. Let’s take advantage of that fact.”
“Agreed,” Remy said.
I turned to the others. “Get some rest. We won’t be long.”
Ferrula grunted. “If you’re not back by dawn, we’re breaking in.”
Riven waved her off. “We’ll be fine. Just go.”
We slipped through the training yard gates, the castle looming like a silent guardian. The torches hadn’t been lit yet—the halls dim with that eerie gray between day and dusk. We moved through the corridors with practiced steps, as quiet as ghosts.
The doors to the archive were carved from blackened oak, etched with golden runes that pulsed faintly as we approached. Zander pushed them open, and the scent of old paper, dust, and enchantments hit us immediately.
Inside, shelves towered toward a domed ceiling of stained glass. Ladders ran the length of the walls. Scrolls and tomes in every imaginable language lined the shelves—categorized, protected, and enchanted to resist age and misuse. At the center was a long table surrounded by plush chairs worn down by centuries of kings, scholars, and fools.
Cordelle sighed beside me. “This place is…”
“Sacred,” Remy finished.
Zander motioned to the table. “Let’s find out what Ashe’s key opens.”
We gathered around the wide oak table, its surface already cluttered with maps, aged scrolls, and scattered volumes. Dust caught in the fading light that streamed through the stained glass above, casting fractured rainbows across the worn stone floor.
Cordelle traced his fingers across the spine of a heavy tome before glancing at me. “I’ve been focusing most of my efforts on your bloodline, Ashe,” he admitted. “But now… I think we should expand that scope. We need to look for anything tied to the prophecy you’re connected to. Especially anything that speaks of a Storm Reaper or mentions a child of the Blood and Light.”
Zander nodded, arms crossed over his chest. “What else?”
“Anything on the Light Fae,” Cordelle continued, already drifting toward the second level. “And any weapons they were rumored to create before the war. They may have built safeguards against the Blood Fae—tools we’ve forgotten or buried in myth.”
I sat at the far edge of the table, pulling the vial from beneath my armor and holding it gently in my palm. “I’ll focus on this,” I said quietly. “The healing elixir they gave us. If we’re going to save the king, I need to understand how it works. We need to confirm the poison in his blood is fae-born.”
“Excellent.” Zander’s voice was low, but steady as he moved toward the northern shelf. “Let’s spread out. We search until we find something that can help us.”
Remy didn’t speak. He already had a stack of books in his arms, eyes scanning titles as he slid into a chair at the edge of the room.
