Not in the strategy chamber—Izan dismisses the others with a growl that sends even Kaelreth retreating. In the private chambers adjacent to his own, where the wards muffle sound and the volcanic glass windows show nothing but gray sky and ash.
He paces like a caged predator. I stand my ground near the window.
“You don’t understand what you’re asking.” His voice has gone raw from strain. “Walking into that cistern alone?—”
“I wouldn’t be alone.” The point matters. “You would be with me.”
He stops mid-stride. Turns.
“Your magic and mine.” I keep my voice steady. “We’ve seen what happens when they work in concert. In the market ambush—we fought like we’d been partners for years instead of hours. Your fire clears the path; my power severs the bindings. If anyone can break the ritual at its source, it’s us.”
“Both of us.” The words drag up from somewhere deep in his chest, reluctant.
“Precisely.” I won’t use the word he’s clinging to—too close to the forbidden territory we’ve been circling. “The Blood Regent is expecting a Vireth witch. He’s not expecting what we become when we fight beside each other.”
Izan crosses the distance between us. His hands find my shoulders, grip with barely-controlled strength. His heat radiates through my clothing, and I feel the dragon thrumming beneath his skin.
“If you die in that place, I will burn it to bedrock.” The promise carries absolute conviction. “I will destroy everyone who participated in your death. I will hunt the Blood Regent to the edges of the realm and teach him what happens to those who take what’s mine.”
“I know.” My hands rise to cover his. “And that’s exactly why I won’t die.”
His grip tightens. “You can’t promise that.”
“No.” I hold his stare, letting him see the fear I’ve been hiding beneath tactical arguments. “But I can promise that I’m not walking into this as a sacrifice. I’m walking in as a weapon—your weapon, if you’ll let me be. And weapons don’t die quietly. They take their enemies with them.”
“You’re not my weapon. You’re my?—”
He stops. Swallows.
I wait.
“You’re the reason I’m fighting at all.” Barely audible. “Before you, this was strategy. Politics. The endless game of maintaining power. Now—” His hands slide from my shoulders to cup my face. “Now there’s a person worth protecting. Someone who matters more than the city or the Flight or any of it.”
The words make heat bloom in my chest that has nothing to do with his touch.
“Then protect me.” I cover his hands with mine. “Not by keeping me caged. Not by making decisions for me. Protect meby standing beside me when I need you. By trusting that I know my own capabilities.”
“And if being your partner means watching you walk into danger I can’t shield you from?”
“Then you learn what it costs.” I turn my head, press my lips to his palm. “We both do.”
The war councilreconvenes at midnight.
Seravax has spent the intervening hours running calculations, projecting scenarios, mapping every possible outcome. His assessment is clinical, precise, and terrifying: the plan has perhaps a thirty percent chance of success. Without me, that number drops to single digits. With me but without Izan at my side, the odds improve only marginally—the Blood Regent has prepared specifically for a Vireth witch working alone. Our synchronized magic is the variable no one anticipated.
Kaelreth argues for alternative approaches—a siege, a diplomatic solution, an appeal to other Flights for support. Each suggestion is methodically dismantled by the tactical realities. There is no time for siege; the ritual could be completed within days. The Blood Regent won’t negotiate with those he considers inferior beings. Other Flights are too distant to help before the binding activates, and none have shown interest in Pyraeth’s internal conflicts.
In the end, there is only one path forward.
“The assault begins at dawn.” Izan’s voice carries the weight of the final decision. “Strike teams hit the remaining nodes simultaneously—including the six Threx-designed containment sites. All of them burn. Dragons take the surface approaches.Alerie and I push for the cistern’s heart while the Blood Regent’s forces are divided.”
Seravax nods once. “Corveth’s team will run point on the containment sites. Saelith—Corveth’s deputy, the leak your mate identified—has been removed from the chain of command. Blood-oath compromised, as she suspected. The routes he handled are now clean.” He meets my gaze briefly. “All assault routes are clean.”
“And if the trap is deeper than we’ve anticipated?” Kaelreth’s question carries no accusation—only the pragmatism of someone who has seen too many battles go wrong.
“Then we adapt. We’ve been reacting to the Blood Regent’s moves since this started. Time to make him react to ours.”
The council disperses to prepare. Soldiers to be briefed. Weapons to be distributed. Tactics to be finalized.
