Now we’re not fighting as four lonely Lords scrambling for a silent crown.
We’re fighting as us.
Together.
And Idris finally understands what he’s up against.
Four Lords of the Elements.
Four zareth bonds.
Four living Primes.
And one realm that has decided it will not break ever again.
Chapter 28
Dagan
Idris’ Defeat, The Rooted Marches
Power the likes of which I have never imagined surges through me—through us—and for a breath I forget the weight of my own wings.
It pours from my Oona like spring water through cracked stone, clean and relentless, and the Rooted Marches answer her as if they’ve been waiting all their lives to be touched by her hands.
The earth beneath my boots locks.
Every fracture line that has been screaming for weeks goes silent.
Every trembling seam in the realm stills as if Nightfall itself has finally found its spine again.
I draw a ragged breath, and I feel it—feel her—right at the center of me.
Not as a tether. Not as a chain.
As a foundation.
I lift my head.
Across the battlefield, I see it mirrored in my brothers.
Alaric’s storm-light flaring, the air bending around his Dragon form like a bow drawn back to the breaking point.
Kael stands like an ocean given a body, water rising and circling him in a living halo.
Thorne’s flames no longer gutter—they steady, controlled heat like a forge at its hottest, brightest purpose.
Their viyellas are with them.
Not behind them.
With them.
Beside them.
And in their eyes, in the crackling lines of power stitched between mate and Lord, I see the truth slam into place.
Nightfall was never meant to be held by one crown again.
