"Front line's ready. They know the signal."
The words washed over me, each one a reminder that this wasn't theoretical. It wasn't practice. These people were preparing to march into a battle that would determine whether the resistance, and our king, survived or died trying.
And I was the hinge point. The reason they could strike deep instead of dying at the outer walls. Their resolve was more absolute than any belief I had ever held.
My hesitation would kill them just as surely as failure.
I knelt on the stone floor, pressing my palms flat against the cold rock. Closed my eyes. Let the tent, the noise, and the fear fade into background static.
Breath in. Hold. Release.
Again.
The taught discipline Lyralei drilled into me over weeks of training took hold. My heartbeat slowed. The racing thoughts quieted to navigable streams instead of violent torrents.
Once I had fully scanned my inner space, I reached outward.
The Veil responded immediately. It was vast and infinite. I could feel it pressing against reality like silk stretched thin. I felt its tension, the places where it bulged dangerously inward, the spots where it held firm and strong.
But for the first time since learning what I was, I didn't just feel the danger.
I felt the beauty.
The Veil wasn't a weapon. Wasn't a curse or a burden or a monstrous inheritance. It was the boundary between dimensions. It was the membrane that kept reality stable anddistinct. Without it, everything collapsed into undifferentiated chaos.
And I could touch it. Could shape it. Could use it to protect instead of destroy.
The realization settled into my bones with crystalline clarity.
My mother had wielded this power to save enslaved children. To build sanctuaries. To hold back the Devourer's corruption.
I could do the same. I could do more.
The fear didn't disappear, but it transformed. Instead of terror, it became cautious respect for both its beauty and its potential for destruction. I was no longer paralyzed, but simply aware of the Veil.
I opened my eyes and rose, legs steady beneath me.
Outside, the preparation continued. Metal rang against metal. Orders were given and confirmed. Somewhere in the distance, someone prayed in a language older than the kingdom itself.
I crossed to the tent flap and pushed it open.
The cavern stretched before me. Five hundred soldiers were arranged in perfect battalions, weapons gleaming in the flickering torchlight. Every face turned toward me as I stepped into view.
Complete silence.
They didn't kneel. Didn't bow. Just watched with the kind of focus that came from knowing exactly what they needed to do, and the risk they were taking.
Daemon stood at the front of the nearest formation, shadows coiling loosely around his forearms. His dark eyes found mine across the distance, and something passed between us without words.
Ready?
I gave the smallest nod.
Ready.
Kaelen stepped forward from her position near the command group. "Battalions, compress formation. Teleportation requires minimal spatial distance."
The organized chaos resumed immediately. Soldiers shifted closer together, tightening ranks until the four battalions became dense clusters of armored bodies. My protective guard moved to surround me, creating a clear perimeter while staying close enough to be included in the working.
