“People are fleeing inland,” she continued. “Most are heading for the middle kingdoms, but Grenthia’s already shut its borders. Too many mouths, not enough defenses.”
“Vrangoth and Uriden?” I asked, voice tight.
“They’ll have no choice,” she said. “It’s only a matter of time before they close too.”
My hands clenched at my sides. “What about the Order? Are we accepting our own?”
“Of course we are,” Solei said without hesitation. “But only if they can get through the gates. And most won’t make it that far.”
“Damn,” I muttered under my breath. “This is a nightmare.”
Solei’s eyes met mine, her voice low and razor-sharp. “More so for the innocents currently on the roads. Bandits are picking them off like game. Desperation breeds monsters.”
I looked out past the gate, my stomach twisting. No wonder the skies had gone quiet. The dragons were retreating. The capital was bracing.
And the world outside our walls was burning.
A deep horn echoed across the courtyard, deep, urgent, final. I turned just as Theron emerged from the castle, flanked by two guards and dressed in his usual obsidian-stitched finery, his cloak catching on the wind like wings made of shadow.
Solei stiffened beside me.
“That’s my cue,” she muttered, slipping toward the front gate like smoke. I watched her disappear into the streets, not a single guard stopping her as the tension across the grounds thickened.
The riders gathered fast, boots crunching gravel and banners flapping overhead. Every guild present, every dragon on alert. The Ascension Grounds had never felt heavier, like the wind itself knew what was coming.
Theron stepped up to the podium, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “Riders,” he began, “we stand on the brink of war.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
“The eastern kingdoms have fallen to the Blood Fae. Entire regions consumed by fire and shadow. And now…” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle like stones. “We consolidate our strength here. Warriath will not fall. Not while I draw breath.”
“Then what of the people of those kingdoms?” Teren’s voice rang out across the grounds, strong and furious. “How will you offer aid to the innocent?”
Theron didn’t even flinch. His gaze slid lazily toward Teren, unimpressed. “Those territories were already unstable. No aid will be given.”
Gasps echoed. A few riders cursed under their breath. I felt the rage boil in my chest, white-hot.
Teren looked like he wanted to lunge at the podium. “So you’re abandoning them?”
“They were never our priority,” Theron said coolly. “Our duty lies with this city. With protecting the crown. Warriath must survive.”
No one clapped. No one cheered.
The silence that followed was louder than any horn, and it carried a single truth—Theron had just declared who mattered… and who didn’t.
Ferrula’s voice cracked through the charged silence like a whip. “You would condemn the families of the riders? If the dragons are here, then it’s only a matter of time before the other kingdoms fall. Are we all expendable?”
A hush followed, the kind that screams.
Theron’s expression barely shifted. He turned toward Ferrula, his mouth tightening as if her words tasted foul on his tongue. “All riders matter,” he said, his tone icy. “But we must survive to fight this war. Sacrifice is necessary for the realm’s salvation.”
That was the wrong thing to say.
“How do you define sacrifice?” Taren shouted from Warborn’s side. “Because it sounds like you’re sacrificing everyone else but yourself.”
“What about our friends?” Kaila called from the edge of our group. “Our families? We left them to guard their villages, believing help would come if needed.”
“And now they’re just gone?” another rider yelled. “We trained for this war. This isourfight.”
