Elyssara’s eyes flick up.
“The rest of The Dreaded are yours to command as you please. Nyrielle only wantsmyservice.”
Elyssara’s eyes narrow. Because this doesn’t feel like relief. It feels like strategy. Like there’s a reason Nyrielle only wants the High Witch.
Elyssara gives her a curt nod. “Don’t fuck me over, High Witch.”
It isn’t a threat. It’s a promise.
Lara smirks. “Don’t fuck it up, Lightborne.”
And just like that, the deal is struck.
Elyssara steels her nerve for a little longer, turning back to the group.
“Rubi, Saana, Vren—confirm the dragonblood will purge the threvenar, and find a way to get it to the people,” Elyssara directs.
They nod, packing up the materials.
“Marin—get your mother to move on Dravara, and keep my fucking Starbound alive,” she snaps, not an ounce of hesitation in her tone.
“And then what?” Marin presses. “What happens when my mother uses him against you?”
Her heart seizes in her chest.
“Let me worry about that,” she snaps, but truly, she doesn’t know.
She shoves down the fear.
“Teddy, I need a war strategy. One that will outwit what you’ve handed to Nyrielle,” Elyssara instructs.
His face falls, filled with regret and self-deprecation. “Understood,” he answers, but the words hurt him.
“Time to visit Thalmyr.”
She stabs her finger at Calira. “You better not be setting us up, Commander. Now, take us to the false king.”
The war has already begun.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Beware the crown that claims to save
For mercy buried built this grave
This is where it began.Not in prophecy. Not in palaces. In rot. In hunger. In a place the world pretended did not exist. A place the world turned its back on.
Elyssara walks through Virellin like a ghost the city doesn’t know it buried.
Lightborne magic flares at her fingertips, blazing through The Barrier District like a warning not to approach. Letting everyone know she is the Lightborne of the prophecy. She is the one who will bring the Stars to their fucking knees.
Calira leads the way, commanding guards to stand down, a dagger in her palm that makes Bloodbonds visibly recoil.
They know who she is: the Crown’s Blade. Thalmyr’s attack dog. The Venomshade trained from just five summers old to collect lives on the whim of the Crown.
They watch in horror as Commander Calira Haradin strides toward The Barrier with her chin held high, each step a promise, the Lightborne from the prophecy under her protection.
The Barrier hums above Virellin like a lie made visible. Elyssara has lived under its suffocating presence her entire life. Tonight, she moves toward the man who built it with her Fallen fanning out behind her like a protective shield.
