“Alliances are not founded on friendship. We do not need to like each other. Most of us were raised inside systems that taught us who to fear, who to blame, who deserved safety, and who deserved suffering. And look where it brought us,” she begins, her voice reverberating through the cavern.
“Because what we have is far greater than affection or fondness: we have a common enemy. Two, in fact. Tonight, we align our goals and form a plan to write a new story for the Known Realms. Beyond the prophecy, beyond division, there is a new world that awaits. And right here, right now, we challenge what’s written in the Stars, because there is no fucking way the fates thought this group would ever be in the same room working together.”
A few huffs of laughter.
“If we survive this, then maybe the people who come after us won’t inherit a world built on fear and sacrifice and hatred. What we are doing here will write a new future for all of us. One beyond the reach of fate. Or we die proving it was never ours to begin with.” Her speech ricochets off stone walls like the Stars themselves demand her words be repeated.
Silence falls, but Elyssara knows deep in her bones that the conclave is underway.
Lara leans forward, her too-long nails dragging along the skin of her jaw. “It is easy to pontificate on unity when you are the one who is benefitting from our contribution, Lightborne,” Lara drawls, her voice dripping with superiority. “What would the witches gain?”
And there it is.
What the witches really want. Riches. Leverage. Survival. Morality is not even a consideration.
Vren grunts his distaste. “And they callusfree-loaders,” he mutters under his breath.
“Quiet!” Elyssara snaps, her boots still thudding through the cavern like a war drum.
“It is my understanding, High Witch, that the witches have not been welcome across the continents in decades. You would really defend your right to remain isolated and cast out?” she presses, trying to force a crack in Lara’s mask.
Lara’s face is unreadable, and her amethyst eyes do not falter. “No. I would defend my right to stay out of a war that offers The Dreaded nothing in return. Would you send your own people into a war that wasn’t yours?” she counters.
Logically, Lara is right. It’s not her war.
But who’s war is it really? Who will be brave enough to take it on? If not them, then who?
Elyssara snaps, diplomacy be damned.
“I wasborninto a war that wasn’t mine,” she hisses, baring her teeth. “None of us chose the worlds we were born into,” Elyssara growls. “We inherited their hatred. Their violence. Their fear. And every generation before us called it inevitable instead of asking why. Every generation before us looked at it, and decided it wasn’t theirs. I was chosen against my will to enact a prophecy that has seen too many good people die. Forced into dungeons for who I am. Faced legions of Caeloria’sbest for the threat I pose. This is notmywar. This iseveryone’swar.”
Lara’s mouth twists into a feral smirk. “And yet you’re the only one who gains a kingdom and a crown from this war.”
Her tone makes it sound like a theft.
The sting of Lara’s venom floods her veins. Hot and thick and undeniable.
“Yes,” Elyssara agrees, her words a cruel snarl. “I’ve only lost my parents, my friends, my Starbound, my body, and my mind for it. And still you think I’m the one who stands to gain?”
She doesn’t mean to sound so despondent, but that’s how the words come out anyway. She hates that it shows. Hates that they can hear what this war has taken from her. Elyssara takes her seat between Seren and Ronyn, their eyes gentle with understanding.
Teddy’s voice cuts through the space. “What do you mean you’velostyour Starbound?” His voice is clipped and forceful. A general assessing facts.
Fuck.
She knew she’d have to tell them. Knew she’d be forced to admit what afflicts Kael. Everyone noticed it.
Elyssara’s eyes fall on Teddy, his gaze severe and narrowed.
The air thickens with tension, like the walls have stopped breathing.
“When we brought down the Decay,” she begins, her voice heavy and thick with emotion, “the magic used to form it transformed back into the Riverian Jungle. Every cursed shadow bloomed into new life.”
No one speaks. No one even mutters under their breath.
They were either there, or they heard about it. She knew that. The tale of the Battle of Kryntar spread far and wide.
“But there was a fragment,” Elyssara says, emotion snagging in her throat.
