A shadow dropped between them. A massive goliath sword slammed into the street, cracking cobblestones apart.
Both men staggered back.
Sable stood with her hand on the hilt, expression flat and unimpressed.
“Okay,” she said loudly. “Everyone who wants to continue breathing—stop.”
Everyone froze.
“Good,” Sable continued. “Luna sent a letter. She also told me to break up any fights. So—” she tapped the cracked ground with her boot, “—mission accomplished.”
Footsteps pounded toward them. The older teens from the orphanage arrived first, breathless and holding makeshift weapons—pitchforks, broom handles, kitchen knives.
Behind them came more: refugees—people with torn cloaks and worn boots.
And each of them wore something faintly glowing:
A gold-tinted earring
A ring warm with magic
A bracelet humming softly
Basil’s eyes widened.
“Those… those are all Estella's blessings,” he whispered. “But why?”
“The Queen saved all of us. In return, we promised to act when our relics awakened.”
“How many people did Estella tie into her plan?”
“A lot,” Sable said nonchalantly, like she wasn’t standing in the middle of a battle zone.
“I was also told to give you this letter from Queen Estella to—someone, I guess. Luna didn’t specify.”
Nythir and Sylva snatched it at the same time, glaring at each other.
“Let go,” Sylva growled, baring his teeth.
“No.”
“Enough!” a woman screeched, whacking them in the head with a purse and seizing the letter.
“Irene! I told you to stay inside!” the aura knight shouted, rushing to guard her.
“Not when my children are involved!” she snapped, whacking him again.
Nythir instinctively knew her—the Baroness, feared and respected in equal measure.
She tore the letter open, scanned it, and then shoved it at the aura knight. Sylva read it over his shoulder, then passed it to Nythir.
Dear Basil, Irene, and the man my child loves,
I have done all I could to prepare for this moment. I could not live for my beloved child, so I beg you: save my girl and my kingdom in my stead. March to Draewyn Dominion. The others will be there.
I leave the rest to you.
“Nythir!” Lyssara yelled, running through the smoke. “Are you okay? Where’s Essie?”
