We fight as one.
We move as if we were made for this moment—every strike measured, every breath shared.
The castle trembles underfoot.
Tapestries burn.
Onyx cracks.
The walls themselves seem to lean away from us as if they know the tide has turned.
For the first time in what feels like lifetimes, I can taste victory.
It’s bitter and bloody and glorious.
It’s real.
We drive them back up the obsidian steps, through the great hall, across the castle, and through the main doors, where the torches flicker and die.
The sky greets us as we burst into the night, Stars watching us through the rip like they’re not the ones pulling the strings.
I suck in a deep breath as my blade rips through flesh. The sky is our audience, silver dust spilling through the dark.
I was born of its dust—no wonder destruction feels like home.
They fall one by one.
Hundreds falling under the power of our weapons and gifts from the sky.
When the final Caelorian drops to his knees, his helm hits the stone with a hollow sound—like punctuation to the sentence we’ve written in blood.
The air hangs heavy and trembling.
Elyssara exhales, her Starlight dimming around us.
Ronyn leans on his bow, grinning. “We actually did it. I honestly thought we’d die.”
Seren smiles—a real one, small and bright, a sliver of sunrise in the ruin.
For one blessed heartbeat, I let myself believe it’s over. The halls are empty. The surrounding city sleeps.
But something isn’t right.
I snap my gaze to Therion, but he’s already stalking forward, down the main steps and into the castle grounds.
I follow, possessing the darkness like I’m made of it.
“The insects don’t trill,” he whispers, muscles coiled tight and jaw set.
“Light the torches!” I urge in a low, hushed growl.
Jax sparks them to life, racing towards us with the torches raised high.
And that’s when I see it.
The castle gates, blown open in the wreckage by cannons, reveal a horizon that sears into my mind.
An army.
