Page 146 of She Who Holds My Wrath

And then there’s Aurora’s Veil. Duskwalkers slip in and out of visibility, darkness clinging to them like a second skin. Shadows stretch unnaturally long, swallowing bodies whole before releasing them again. Illusions flicker at the edge of perception—false openings, phantom enemies, shifting terrain meant to disorient and exhaust.

And between them all—the soldiers without magic wielding abilities hold their ground just as fiercely.

Blades forged from Hell’s steel flash beside Fjellheim-crafted spears. Stormravan war-hammers ram into shields etched with runes from Luminaria. Weapons hum with enchantments layered so carefully, they don’t interfere with one another. All proof of long nights spent forging cooperation, not just arms.

This… this is what unity looks like. Creatures from every realm, standing together to fight the oppressor. Because here, no matter what any realm thinks of another, there is only one enemy. The Six. And those who follow them.

I stop walking without realising it, because I see them.

Daisy stands near the centre of a large ring, her posture straight, commanding without effort. She’s laughing, actually laughing, as she barks instructions, correcting footwork here, redirecting energy there. She’s with Hell civilians who chose to fight. Their queen standing by their side, helping them learn how to wield, fight, defend. She looks… alive. Grounded in a way I haven’t seen since before everything shattered.

And beside her—Korithax.

He’s unmistakeable, even among the thousands. Tall, broad, his presence cutting through the chaos like a blade through silk. He moves between soldiers with easy authority, correcting stances, demonstrating strikes, barking orders that are followed without hesitation.

He’s commanding again. Not ruling from a throne. Not drowning in grief or fury or self-recrimination. This. This is what he was made for.

A strange, unexpected warmth settles in my chest as I watch him work. The way his voice carries. The way soldiers straighten instinctively when he passes. The way Daisy glances at him. It’s brief and subtle, but full of trust. My brother is back. Not untouched. Not unscarred. But he’s back.

It’s Daisy who sees me first. She’s mid-instruction, correcting a soldier’s grip, when her gaze flicks past the ring. For a moment she doesn’t react—then her eyes widen just slightly. The shift is subtle, but unmistakable. Her focus falters, clearly shocked at seeing me away from the leylines.

She straightens, lifting a hand. “Hold,” she calls. Her voice cuts clean through the noise of the group she’s training. “Take five. Hydrate. We’ll continue in ten.”

There’s no argument. The soldiers disperse immediately.

She turns to Korithax, says something quietly, and he nods once. His eyes follow her as she moves away, a faint crease forming between his brows when he spots me. She crosses the sand towards me, boots kicking up dust, the heat clinging to her like a second skin. Up close, I can see the sheen of sweat on her brow, the faint flush on her freckled cheeks. She looks exhausted.

“Aran,” she says softly, like she’s afraid I might vanish again if she speaks too loudly.

“Sunshine Queen,” I reply, unable to stop the corner of my mouth from lifting.

She exhales a laugh as she steps closer, her eyes scanning me quickly. She’s checking me, assessing me in the way she always does. “You look like hell.”

“I am in Hell,” I deadpan.

That earns me an eye roll with a tired huff of laughter. “Fair.”

Her gaze drifts back to the training grounds, to the chaos and coordination unfolding behind us. “You’ve not been sleeping again.”

I don’t deny it, there’s no point. She always sees too much. Probably part of the reason she wanted to be a psychologist before everything changed for her. Before I had a helping hand in changing it…

“So, what do you think… of all this?” she asks quietly.

“You’ve done well, Daisy.”

She swallows, her jaw tightening for a half a second before she softly smiles and nods. “We didn’t have a choice.”

“No,” I agree. “But you still made the right ones.”

She looks back at me, her ocean-blue gaze piercing. “You didn’t come just to compliment my drills.”

I shake my head and something shifts in her expression. It’s not fear, but readiness. The look of someone who knows the ground beneath them is continuously cracking but refuses to step back anyway.

“Then tell me,” she says. “Because if it’s bad, I want to hear it now, rather than later.”

“We’re out of time with the leylines. They’re not going to work. They’re purposely fucking with them, trying to burn us out,” I say quietly, ensuring nobody can hear other than her. “But… there is somewhere to put the civilians.”

Her breath catches, her brow furrowing slightly.