Ice climbs Elyssara’s spine, and her blood runs cold.
“What?” she breathes.
Calira does not falter. Does not hide from the admission. “I developed the alchemy. Designed it for use against the enemy. We knew they were coming.”
Calira steps forward then, her presence cutting cleanly through the tension.
“Nyrielle’s Shades took the plans, replicated them, sold them to Maireth. We had hoped the design was too complex for them to figure out, but…” she trails off, because the rest is obvious.
Teddy’s fist collides with the table. Ronyn walks away, dragging a desperate hand down his face.
Thalmyr exhales a pained sigh. “We had to do something. Had to find another way to defeat them. We only had twelve more months until the dragons were extinct… The Barrier would’ve fallen, and we’d be left defenseless, save for the army. And we all know how that would’ve turned out. It was a calculated risk.”
“And now we’re on the other side of that risk,” Elyssara says, trying not to lose herself to the panic.
“I have a plan,” Calira proposes, cutting through the fear. Her gaze flicks between Elyssara and Teddy.
He nods.
So does she.
They can use all the fucking help they can get.
Calira sucks in a steadying breath. “The Venomshades will split into smaller units, take the first strike from within the slums,” she says. “We don’t engage in open combat. We use alchemy—fatal gases, throwing pins infused with Shadelock, paralyzing poisons we can mist into the air. We move through them. Silent kills. Disruption.”
Ronyn scoffs. “Yeah we’ve been on the receiving end of those paralyzing mists. Assuming the enemy stole that too? Can’t say it was a good time.”
Seren elbows him in the ribs.
“We’ve been preparing for this time for years,” Calira comments, as if that will be enough to win.
“And the next wave? Runewrights?” Teddy asks, already clocking the strategy Calira has in mind.
“They’ll need contact,” Calira replies, cold and efficient. “Close range. We use the dark and the disruption caused by the Venomshades. Use the confusion. The unit knows their runes—fatal, or at the very least, unconscious. No prolonged engagement.”
“Bloodbonds?” Jax adds.
Calira’s expression doesn’t change. “We hold them back.”
“For when everything turns to shit,” Ronyn mutters.
“Yes,” Calira says simply.
The way a hand presses against a wound, buying time even when it cannot stop the bleeding.
“And the Aetherstrides sense the enemy and pick them off before they can penetrate deeper into the city’s heart,” Teddy says, and Calira nods.
“Exactly.”
The two of them share a nod, like this fragile strategy is the only thread stitching this entire thing together.
Elyssara’s gaze shifts to Vren. “What do the Melders bring to the table if they can’t take to the skies?”
She doesn’t mean it as an insult, but she needs them to be useful.
Vren scratches his head. “Blood for the antidote,” he admits sadly. “But in the absence of that, we can carry out tasks at your behest, Your Highness.”
Your Highness.
