He hummed, low in his throat. “Is that what you picture when you think of it?”
“No,” I admitted. “But I can’t summon anything other than collapse. Though I’d like to believe it was once a place of wonder, not dread. Somewhere beautiful.”
For a long moment he didn’t say anything more, just stared into the dark as though he could see that far west, past the mountains, past the decay.
“I wonder,” he said at last, voice low. “But I don’t let myself dwell on it. Some truths are already heavy enough without chasing the stars that burned out with them.”
His words settled over me, dissolving into the strained quiet that followed. Because I knew what he meant.
That even if the stars of Nyctom still burned, they would belong to ghosts. And ghosts don’t light the way forward.
The Bale didn’t stop at Nyctom’s border. It still scoured across the continent, sucking life from the soil and draining magic from the land. Stripping the Fae, who drew their strength from its roots, dry.
Hopefully even lusting after false kings. Gods willing.
That was the promise written from the old magic, the balance.
The Bale wouldn’t cease, couldn’t be cured.
Not until all three rightful heirs had reclaimed their thrones.
“How are we supposed to find them, Callum?” I asked quietly. “How do we even know they’re real?”
His shoulders stilled, jaw setting in the way that said he was deciding which truths to share and which to bury.
Exhaling deeply, he said, “They’re real. Kairos would have known better than to leave Nyctom unsecured to his line.”
The wind shifted again, carrying the low growl of thunder from the north, still distant.
I searched his face. “But if there is an heir…they’ve stayed hidden for overtwentyyears.”
His eyes stayed west for a beat, then fell before finding mine. “Then whoever they are, they’ve stayed hidden for a reason.”
I tried to imagine someone surviving all that time as nothing more than a rumor, wondering if they were lonely, or if the solitude brought them something ruling never could.
They had to be real. Because if Nyctom had no heir to awaken, then none of us were surviving what was coming.
They were hiding, I promised myself. Not a rumor, or a ghost. But alive.
Not for long.
I stiffened, shivering off the inevitable whisper as it coiled, silent now, against my ribs.
I forced my attention back to Callum before he could notice the shift in my expression. But the words lingered.
Not for long.
For now, the forest we hunted in held. But the Bale was coming, and the kingdoms were far from saved.
“Rook’s thoughts say they’re circling back to us now.” Callum’s sword hissed as it slid home into its sheath. A golden wink flickered my way. “How are those legs holding up?”
His telepathy magic allowed him to tether to one mind at a time—bonding, listening, letting the other speak back.
For all these years, he’d chosen mine. Always mine.
While I was granted the gift of answering, the others weren’t so fortunate. To them, he was just another relentless voice in their heads. Like their conscience. Except the intrusive thoughts were swapped for micromanaging.
My palm pressed into the ache of each thigh, kneading at the sting.
