Viktor bowed once, hiding the tremor in his breath. “Yes, sir.”
Chapter Fifty-Seven
What Cannot Wait
The day stretched long with waiting:
for word from Elváliev, for nightfall, for the boy called The Midnight.
Viktor closed Storne’s chamber door behind him, the quiet almost too heavy after the war council’s clamor. The room still smelled of pipe smoke and iron ink.
He paused at the mirror above the desk. A flash of copper caught his eye—his own reflection staring back, sharper than he remembered.
Only days ago he’d been one soldier among hundreds. Now he was High-Captain. Sworn to a princess. Branded by fire and gifted by myth.
He hardly recognized the man in the mirror—and yet the world would.
The thought hollowed him and filled him all at once.
The scout who had crossed Oustinon, who had once known nothing but silence and orders, now stood at the edge of legend.
He dragged his gaze downward, past the map pinned with markers, to the desk. At Storne’s command, he pulled open the bottom drawer. The codex waited inside, its leather cracked with age. He carefully laid it on the desk and opened the brittle pages inked in a hand older than his own bloodline.
Formations. Notes on dragons. The last record of the Bloodforge untouched by elven hands.Now it’s mine to wield.
The quill scratched fast, black lines spreading like veins across parchment—archers repositioned, mirrored shields tallied, timings re-set to meet the tide of wings.
Then, in careful strokes, he added a name:Lieutenant Evander Tassen.
For a long moment he stared at the ink drying. A promise written.
Further in, he found the record of the Ruakite archers—their precise arcs, the chants they’d sung in unison.
“Elves,” Viktor murmured. “Gabriel and Evander should wield bows.”
He traced a diagram with one finger and stopped.
The arrows hadn’t simply flown—they had sailed—
like missiles.
We need the Sagittarii of Vykenra.
A knock broke his focus.
“High-Captain?”
He knew that voice instantly.
“Come in, Evander.”
The young elf slipped in, awkward in the doorway.
“I don’t even know how I’m supposed to address you now.”
“Same as before,” Viktor said with a short laugh. “Sit down.”
Evander dragged a chair forward, hesitation in every motion. Then he spoke in a rush.
