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That is not leadership. It is not responsibility. It is not rational. It is everything I've spent my life refusing to become. Someone whose judgment can be compromised by one person.

And yet—

here I am.

You would do it again .

Vyrael's thought is quieter. I don't answer. He already knows. So do I.

We cross the old northern boundary. Varethia is closer now. The bond should— Maybe.

I reach. Nothing. I sit straighter. Again. Nothing.

"Eirea." Not mind-speak. Her name leaves my mouth.

Wind takes it. I reach harder. I don't know if that's how this works. Nobody fucking knows how this works. The Council doesn't explain. The Headmaster lies. Her father lies. Vayne knows more than he says. Everyone keeps telling us there is nothing to understand while simultaneously watching us like we're a weapon they haven't decided how to use.

Fine. Fuck them.

Eirea. Nothing.

My heart begins beating harder. No. No. Distance.

Still distance. Vyrael feels me.

Rhyven .

"Again."

You cannot force—

"Again."

I reach. Nothing. Not faint. Not blocked. Not distant. Nothing.

For months, she has been there. Sometimes barely. A pressure. A pull. Something impossible to explain.

When she's angry, sharper. Afraid, colder.

Close— worse. Always there. Even when I don't want it. Especially then.

Now, nothing.

My mouth goes dry.

"Can you feel her?" Vyrael doesn't answer immediately. Too long. "Vyrael."

No.

My blood goes cold.

"What do you mean, no."

I do not feel her.

"You've felt her before."

Through you.