The silence after a battle is always wrong. It isn’t peace—it’s absence. Like the world forgot what sound is supposed to be. That’s how it felt in the council chamber. The breach was gone, the wall repaired as if nothing had happened, but the air still tasted scorched, metallic. My skin hummed with the power I’d just unleashed. Not my power—ours. Kael was still staring at me like he didn’t recognize what he was looking at. His sword hung loose at his side. I forced myself to meet his eyes. “You’re welcome.” It was a joke that landed like a stone in water. Councilor Sera stepped forward, her voice sharp. “You turned the tide. Without you, we’d all be—” “Dead,” Ryn finished, but the word was not gratitude. It was accusation. His gaze pinned me as if the breach hadn’t been the only enemy in the room. “And at what cost?” I opened my mouth, but Nytherion’s voice curved through my thoughts like smoke. Say nothing. They wouldn’t understand. For once, I didn’t need the warning. “I did
The council chamber smelled of iron and old stone, the kind of scent that settles deep into your bones. I stayed standing even after the guards stepped back, Kael a solid wall at my side. My pulse had slowed into something deliberate, steady—but that wasn’t calm. That was control, the kind that could crack in an instant. Councilor Sera’s eyes swept the table before she spoke. “The decision before us is not one of politics. It is survival.” Ryn leaned forward. “Survival does not mean gambling the keep on a vessel of the breach.” “Survival,” Sera countered, “means using every weapon at our disposal. Even dangerous ones.” Her words made my stomach twist. Not because she was wrong, but because she was right in a way I didn’t want her to be. I could feel Nytherion listening. Not watching—listening. His attention was a pressure, like a hand against the back of my neck. Ryn kept talking, his voice a blade meant to cut away any doubt. “She admits herself—if Nytherion takes control, the
I didn’t sleep. Not because I didn’t try—Kael all but dragged me to my quarters after the war hall emptied—but because the moment I closed my eyes, the breach was there. Waiting. It pulsed behind my eyelids like a second heartbeat, every thrum a thread pulling me toward it. Nytherion didn’t knock. He didn’t need to. You’re restless, his voice curled through me, smooth and cold as river ice. That’s because you already know dawn will bring nothing but chains. I sat up in bed, the furs falling from my shoulders. Moonlight spilled across the floor in pale ribbons. “You’re not real,” I muttered, like speaking it aloud would make it true. You’re more wrong than you’ve ever been. The room blurred. Not the dizzying spin of exhaustion—this was sharper, deliberate. When my vision cleared, I was no longer in my quarters. The world around me was black stone and silver flame, the air tasting of burnt starlight. The breach. Or something that wanted me to believe it was. Nytherion stood ahea
The eastern gate was still smoking when the arguments began. Sealkeeper Ryn slammed his staff against the stone floor of the war hall. “You can’t keep her here. She’s the breach’s tether now. The longer she stays, the more risk we invite.” He wasn’t looking at Kael. He wasn’t looking at the high council seated behind the long obsidian table. He was looking at me. The room still smelled faintly of blood and burned magic, and my hands were still raw from channeling the energy that destroyed the breach-core. I didn’t have the patience for his careful venom. “Say what you mean, Ryn,” I said, voice low. “You want me gone.” He didn’t even blink. “Not gone. Contained. Your magic is compromised, and your presence here endangers Starfall Keep and every soul in it.” Kael’s voice cut through before I could speak again. “She just saved every soul in it.” “By shattering a core that was never meant to be touched by mortal hands,” Ryn countered. “Tell me, Commander—how long before she becomes
The horn blast still hung in the air when the eastern gates blew inward. Not opened. Not broken. Obliterated. Stone shards rained down like jagged hail. The east tower’s lower level collapsed in on itself, dust billowing into the courtyard. Through the choking cloud came shapes—taller than any mortal, wrapped in plated armor that seemed to pulse with its own heartbeat. This was no skirmish. This was an invasion. Kael pulled me with him behind a fallen pillar just before a spear of black light slammed into the wall where we’d been standing. The impact cracked the masonry like dry bone. “They’ve brought a breach-core,” he hissed. I didn’t even know what that was, but I could feel it—a throbbing in the air like the fortress itself was bleeding. The Sealkeepers scrambled to redirect their chants toward the eastern gate, but it wasn’t working. The breach-core’s magic cut straight through their wards like fire through silk. And behind the armored giants came more war-forms, more shad
The fortress didn’t rest after the first strike. We barely had time to breathe before the second wave hit. The Sealkeepers hadn’t even finished resetting the wards when the air shifted again—this time sharper, like the wind had been honed to a blade. The torches guttered and died in perfect unison. Darkness rolled in like a tide, swallowing the battlements, the halls, every corner of the keep. And inside that darkness… something moved. Kael’s voice was low beside me. “They’re inside the walls.” I tightened my grip on my blade. “Shadows can’t breach solid stone unless—” “Unless they’re not shadows anymore,” he finished grimly. The first one lunged from the dark so fast I didn’t see its face—just teeth. My wolf half reacted before I did. I slammed my blade up under its ribs, but instead of blood, there was only a burst of black smoke. It dissolved into the air, leaving a cold sting in my skin where it brushed me. Dozens more followed. The courtyard became a blur of movement—Sea