If the Guardian Movement acted against Winter, a war unlike any that had come before would reign unchecked.
Sylas would mobilize Requital—and himself.
Velra, the Dark Fae Realm.
Cassius would cross Ariana by targeting her father, Ryker Morgan as Head of the Guardian Movement.
That, in turn, would make enemies out of Kai and Sylas, because the former would defend her.
I would mobilize The Shadowed.
It was even likely now due to Winter’s close relationship with the Basilisk High Lord Heir of the Excetra Crown, that it would mobilize the Basilisk Kingdom on our behalf.
In essence, it would be what my son would term“a shitshow”.
Of epic proportions.
In fact, it wouldn’t be hyperbolic to state that it would be the end.
Of everything.
So, yes, with all of that being a factor, it made Winter’s abduction far beyond just a family matter.
And we had to treat it as such.
Alas, while I stood on the steps of the gray stone mansion observing Sylas breaking down, I was greatly concerned as to whether he could manage that.
We were alike in our ability to remain rational, tactical, and levelheaded through whatever came our way. No matter the chaos, the agony, the insanity that inundated us from external circumstances, from our numerous enemies over the years.
But this was hisson.
And I knew well from my own son in Lazriel, what an impact that could have on the ability to compartmentalize, to maintain clarity of thought, to view the bigger picture that our roles and our power demanded of us—the responsibility that it afflicted us with.
Winter was also my grandson. A part of Lazriel. So him being taken had cut at me fiercely.
Had.
I’d employed my compartmentalization immediately after Ketheron had brought me here to this pocket dimension he and Cassius had crafted two decades ago, and debriefed me on the situation.
With Sylas’ reaction being so very severe, I could not meet his emotion with mine.
It wouldn’t provide comfort to him when he was in this state, anyway.
It would only endorse his out-of-control current disposition.
Something that could not be allowed to continue much beyond this.
I knew that was why Ketheron had called on me specifically.
With a millennium under my belt, he was aware of my ability to do this.
And also well aware of the deep respect that Sylas had for meandmy counsel.
I turned to Ketheron, the sound of him clicking his nails in distress drawing my attention.
“Ambrose will wake shortly. There was no permanent damage. And there will be no superficial damage remaining either once he surfaces from the healing sleep he is currently immersed in.”
His relationship with Ambrose Wisteryn had come as a surprise to many. In actual fact it had been the culmination of an emotional bond formed decades prior, yet one neither had been prepared to deepen that until evolution had occurred on either side. Despite common perception, Ketheron’s need to develop emotionally and socially hadn’t been the chief reason their connection had evolved so very slowly. I’d known Ambrose far too well to believe that. He’d operated much like a force, sweeping here and there, rather than a being with any sort of roots—nor the intent to set down any. He’d long refrained from emotional attachment beyond that of allyship and general care for a select few allies he was close with. At least until the intensity between him and Ketheron could no longer be denied, pushing Ambrose to finally reckon with that approach.
