The guard shifted uneasily, avoiding my gaze. My instincts sharpened at the hesitation.
"She… disappeared."
"What do you mean, disappeared?" Leone demanded.
The guard avoided our eyes, his hands clenching in front of him, the truth clearly weighing on his tongue. When he finally spoke, his voice came out low and edged with fear.
"We found no tracks, no sign of a struggle. She simply vanished."
A chill ran down my spine. What had happened to my mother?
Leone shook his head, then straightened, authority settling over him like a mantle. When he spoke, his voice carried the unmistakable command of an heir.
"By my order, I, Lord Leone Kerridan, heir to the Throne of Ceilte, command an immediate ceasefire. Gather all the soldiers of Ceilte and bring them here."
The guards glanced at one another, hesitation plain on their faces.
"But, my lord… Lord Fenric…"
"Lord Fenric is nothing more than a greedy lord. He kidnapped my father, left me to die under torture at the Autumn Court, and now he’s trying to start a war with Oksha!"
The statement was a gamble. We didn't actually know whether Alasdair had been kidnapped, but his and my mother's absence from Ceilte raised serious concerns. Fenric stood as the only one who benefited from the chaos.
The guards exchanged another glance, and one of them—the youngest—nodded.
"Yes, my lord."
The three of them sprinted toward the battlefield, shouting Leone’s orders to the others.
"We have to find Fenric," Leone said, turning to me with determination in his eyes.
"I broke Kael’s nose in the central plaza," I replied, pointing the way with my axe. "He’ll definitely know where his father is."
Leone nodded, and we ran side by side toward the heart of the battle.
The bonfire square had turned into a hellscape of blood, scattered bodies, and screams of agony. The orcs, caught off guard at first, now fought with desperate ferocity. Despite the wounded and fallen around them, they were gaining ground.
I searched for Kael, but he wasn't where I had left him.
"Cease fire!" one of the guards shouted. "Lord Leone has ordered it!"
The soldiers of Ceilte ignored the command. They remained lost in the frenzy of battle, blinded by bloodlust.
"That’s enough!" Leone bellowed at the top of his lungs.
The shout tore through the plaza, drawing the attention of both Fae and orcs.
Malek, drenched in the dark green blood of his own wounds and the crimson blood of his enemies, turned toward us. I scanned him, searching for any life-threatening injuries. My shoulders only relaxed when I confirmed that the gashes on his arms and chest were superficial.
"Fenric is a traitor," Leone announced, his voice unwavering despite the chaos surrounding us. "He kidnapped me and is now using the guards to start a war. The Okshai have done nothing!"
Leone’s declaration shocked both sides—the orcs witnessing a High Fae defending them, and the guards hearing the accusation. Malek’s roar of rage at the confirmation drowned out the murmurs spreading through the crowd.
"Guards of Ceilte, surrender!" Leone continued. "Stop this massacre. Lord Alasdair is missing, and Fenric has staged a coup!"
Slowly, the guards lowered their weapons, still dazed and uncertain.
Kael staggered toward us, his face a bloody mess. A brief flash of satisfaction surged through my chest when I noticed blood pouring steadily from his broken nose.
