The Arbiter’s stronghold floats.
Three days of hunting led us here—following trails of shattered ice and dead soldiers until we found the source. Now I’m staring up at a fortress that shouldn’t exist. Black ice rises against the gray sky, sharp-edged and massive. The whole structure hovers above the frozen ground, casting a shadow that seems to swallow the light.
My neck aches from looking up at it. The thing is enormous—a floating mountain of frozen darkness.
“There.” Tyr’s hand rests on my lower back, a touch that’s become habit over the past days. Possessive. Grounding. He nods toward the blue flames burning along the walls. “That’s where it forges the crowns.”
The furnaces glow with cold fire. Even from here, I feel the wrongness of that light—power being shaped into chains, into control. Every crown the Arbiter has ever used to bind a ruler was made in those flames.
“It knows we’re coming.”
“Good.” His fingers press harder against my spine. “Saves us the trouble of announcing ourselves.”
I lean into him briefly, stealing a moment of contact before we walk into a fight that might kill us both. His grip tightens in response before he releases me. His thumb drags across my hip as his hand falls away—lingering. A reminder of what we are to each other.
Time for comfort later. If there is a later.
We approach the entrance—a gaping archway of black ice that pulses with dim light. No guards. No traps I can see. The Arbiter wants us inside.
My boots crunch on frozen ground. Each step feels heavier than the last, the air thickening as we get closer. Tyr moves beside me, so close our arms press together with every stride. Neither of us speaks. There’s nothing left to say.
The moment we cross the threshold, cold slams into me like a wall.
My breath turns to ice crystals. The pressure in my skull doubles, triples—the weight of divine power pressing down on every inch of my body. I stumble. Tyr catches my elbow, steadies me.
“Breathe.” His voice cuts through the pressure. “Stay with me.”
I force air into my lungs. The cold burns, but I can function. Barely.
Tyr’s power pushes outward, creating a bubble of relative calm around us both. Ice cracks beneath his boots, fractures spreading in all directions. The citadel resists—I see it trying to reform, trying to hold itself together—but his presence forces it to give ground.
“Better?”
“Better.” I straighten, though my head still pounds. “Let’s move.”
The corridors twist and turn, designed to confuse anyone who enters. Stairs that appear to climb deposit us back where westarted. Hallways fold back on themselves. The Arbiter built this place to trap intruders, to wear them down before the real fight even starts.
But my Auric Veil cuts through the illusions. I see the real path underneath the lies.
“This way.” I take the lead, guiding us left when the corridor seems to go right. “Through here.”
“You’re sure?”
“I see what’s real and what isn’t.” I push through what looks like a solid wall—my hand passes through empty air. “This is just tricks. Distractions.”
He follows without question. The trust lands heavily—a dragon letting a witch guide him into danger. Before the mating, he would have shouldered past me. Now he watches my back and lets me lead.
We move deeper into the citadel. The pressure builds with every step, squeezing my skull like a vise. Blood trickles from my nose—I wipe it away before Tyr can notice.
He notices anyway. His hand catches my chin, tilts my face toward him.
“You’re bleeding.”
“It’s nothing. The divine pressure. It’ll stop when we kill the thing causing it.”
His thumb swipes across my upper lip, clearing the blood. His grip on my chin doesn’t loosen.
“Stay close to me.”
