“This is how we stabilize the towers,” he said, dipping the stone into the shimmering water.
The moment it touched the surface, the pool rippled outward in perfect circles. The glow from the water pulsed brighter around the stone, the same veins of black receding for a breath, just a breath, before surging back, darker than before.
“You see?” he said, voice low. “It still works. But it’s weaker now. The stones need more time to charge. The energy doesn’t stay as long. And the tower connections—” He glancedat Zander, who was watching with furrowed brows. “They’re... brittle.”
“This pool connects all the towers?” I asked.
Quinn nodded. “Each tower has a node that’s linked through here, like veins feeding from the heart. The pool is the source. But the blood’s running dry.”
Zander folded his arms. “Because the warders are dying.”
“Yes,” Quinn said. “The symbiosis between the pool and the warders—it’s more than magical. It’sliving.We draw from it, and it draws from us. But the balance is gone. There are too few of us left to sustain it.”
I stepped closer to the water, watching the way the black veins pulsed again, slow and poisonous. “The deaths of the warders started this corrosion?”
Quinn’s jaw tightened. “Yes. And now it’s feeding on itself.”
He looked at us then.
“If we don’t find a way to replenish the pool... the towers will fall. And with them, so will Warriath.”
“The introduction of the commoners. It was always about the pool. The king didn’t care about the other guilds,” I said.
Quinn shrugged. “Possibly.”
Zander stepped forward slowly, his boots echoing against the stone floor as he approached the edge of the pool. The light from the water reflected in his eyes—sapphire, violet, moonlit silver—shifting like a dream trapped beneath glass.
Without a word, he knelt and reached out.
His fingers dipped into the iridescent surface, and the pool responded instantly.
A pulse shot outward from the contact point, concentric waves rolling across the liquid as though the pool itself had drawn breath. The black veins near his hand recoiled, pulling back like shadows fleeing from light. The water glowed brighteraround him, warming from within, casting dancing reflections on the cavern walls.
Quinn gasped behind us. “You… you’re a direct descendant. A true halfling.”
Zander stood, his jaw tense, his shoulders tight with a truth he no longer bothered to hide. “I am,” he said quietly. “The king isn’t my blooded father.”
Quinn stared.
Zander glanced at me. “The fae prisoner beneath the palace? He is.”
“A full fae…” Quinn breathed, stunned. “There’s afull faein the castle?”
Zander nodded once.
Without waiting, I stepped forward and knelt beside him, my heart pounding as I reached toward the pool.
The moment my fingers skimmed the surface, a flare of pure, blinding light burst outward… stronger, deeper. The water shimmered with a brilliant pulse of gold and violet, and the dark veins curled back in every direction, retreating further than they had with Zander.
The glow wrapped around my hand like it knew me.
Like it recognized me.
Quinn’s jaw dropped. He took a step back, breath caught in his throat. “You… You’re not just a halfling. You’re fae royalty.”
I pulled my hand back, the last of the light fading slowly beneath the surface.
“We need you to keep this to yourself,” Zander said, his voice sharp but calm.
