She lets the army surge ahead of her, lets herself be carried in its wake without ever stepping fully into its center, her presence just another shadow among many. Her posture remains what it has always been in her mother’s presence—contained, disciplined, unremarkable. The obedient shape of her is something she can wear without thinking now.
But it is the last time she will wear it.
Because her mother will not cross that fucking bridge. She will not get close to Saana.
The forces arrive at The Black Stream bridge, stepping over Teddy Ashborne’s body as though the man who held back a god was merely another casualty of war.
The bridge groans beneath the weight of the advancing army, its narrow span forcing the soldiers to condense, to funnel, to commit fully to the crossing. On the far side, the path rises toward the castle, its structure still standing above the devastation, held behind the faint, flickering glow of The Lightborne Barrier.
Marin’s gaze lifts to it.
It is weakening.
She can see it in the way the light stutters, in the uneven pulse that runs through it—no longer held in place by dragonblood. It clings on for another breath, then another, and for a moment it almost seems as though it might stabilize.Then it doesn’t.
The light falters once, twice, and then disappears entirely, not in a violent rupture, but in a gentle, final absence.
The Barrier is gone.
And beyond the bridge, beneath the city itself, Saana still works to return memory to the realm. Maireth cannot be allowed to reach her.
The castle stands open.
The shift moves through the battlefield instantly.
Maireth feels it.
Marin does not need to see her face to know. The army responds before any command is spoken, tightening, accelerating, pressing forward with renewed force as the final obstacle is removed. The push across the bridge intensifies, theremaining Dravari forces collapsing under the pressure, unable to hold against the sudden surge.
Nyrielle senses it as well.
Marin cares less about the castle and more about the evacuated people of Virellin hiding belowground.Her fucking wife.She cannot let them get there.
Above her, another dragon falters under a precise strike of Kael’s power, its fire cutting short as it fights to regain altitude. The sky that had, for a moment, belonged to them begins to fracture again.
Below, Elyssara still stands.
And Kael—whatever he has become—moves closer to her with every passing heartbeat. Like a wolf on the hunt for a scent it knows.
Even at this distance, Marin can feel the change in the air, the way the weight of her presence sharpens, focuses, turns toward the same point. The war is no longer about breaking the city.
It is about claiming it.Taking it.
They move faster now, both of them, converging on the same end.
Marin watches.
And still, she does nothing.
Not yet.
This is the moment she has been waiting for—not the chaos of battle, not the initial strike, but this precise fracture in control, the point where victory appears certain enough that caution slips.
She begins to move now, closing the distance with measured steps as Maireth advances toward the bridge, her attention fixed ahead, her focus narrowing on what she believes is already hers.
Marin does not rush to catch her.
She follows.
