Everything accelerates. I step back slightly, giving space where it is required, then move to Aeryn’s side without drawing attention to it, letting the positioning speak for itself.
“You’ve done what you came here to do,” I say quietly, low enough that it doesn’t carry beyond her.
“For now,” she replies.
There is no satisfaction in her tone. Only continuation.
I study the field beyond the encampment again, watching the first signs of distant engagement begin to form at the horizon, subtle shifts in movement that will become something larger within minutes.
“They’ll collide sooner than expected,” I say.
“Yes.”
“You accounted for that.”
“I accounted for enough.”
I smile at that. Gods…that woman.
A runner approaches, stopping just short of us before delivering a message to the commander that confirms what is already visible from here.
Velkiron lines are breaking. Xalith is advancing. Exactly as expected.
The commander turns, issuing new orders without hesitation, adjusting deployment in real time to meet the convergence point before it fully forms.
I glance at Aeryn again, not to question, not to challenge, but to confirm something that has already settled into place without needing to be spoken.
She doesn’t look at me. She doesn’t need to. The war has changed. And since the ruin, I am not attempting to reshape it into something I can control.
I am working within it. With her.
37
AERYN
The distance from the command center is intentional, and I don’t stop immediately, letting the space build between us and the encampment until the noise fades and the pressure of too many decisions no longer sits on my shoulders. The air feels different here, quieter, stripped of urgency, and only when I’m certain no one is close enough to listen do I slow and turn to face him.
Vaedros follows without asking where we’re going. He stops a few steps away, watching me with that same contained focus, as if he’s already measuring the shape of the conversation before it begins. No one speaks, and the silence stretches just long enough before I close the distance. We have postponed so much to talk about… Now that we are in a room away from everyone and everything I know, it's time.
My hand catches his wrist. The contact is meant to be brief. It isn’t.
The vision hits before I can pull back, sharp and immediate, forcing its way through the moment with no warning. The world fractures around me, not into fragments of possibility, but into memory that isn’t mine. A messenger stands in front of him,voice low, precise, delivering terms already decided. Recover the artifact. Eliminate the seer.
And Vaedros—listening. Considering.
The vision shifts, just enough to show the path that follows, a version where I don’t leave the forest, where the artifact changes hands cleanly, where he walks away with power restored and nothing left behind him that matters. Then it’s gone.
I release him as if the contact burned.
For a second, the present feels unsteady, like it hasn’t fully settled back into place. Then I look at him, and the words come without hesitation.
“You were going to trade me.”
There’s no shock in his expression.
“No,” he says.
I let out a breath, sharper than I intend, my gaze narrowing.
