Chapter 19
The soldiers came in the dark. Not through doors or windows—they materialised from shadow itself, their armour drinking light like hungry mouths. I could smell them before I saw them: death and ash and something sickeningly sweet, like flowers blooming in a graveyard.
Mireth screamed.
The sound tore through me like a blade finding bone, sharp and desperate and wrong. She was pressed against the far wall of our chamber, Eryx clutched in her small arms, both trembling as the Nyxarian soldiers closed in.
“Mama!” Mireth’s voice cracked on the word, high and terrified. “Mama, help!”
I tried to move—tried to run to them, to fight, to do something—but my body was lead, my limbs refusing to obey. The harder I struggled, the heavier I became, sinking into quicksand that tasted of copper and despair.
The lead soldier reached for Mireth with gauntleted hands, and I could see his face beneath the helm. It was beautiful in that terrible fae way, with eyes like infected wounds and a smile that promised pain.
“Such lovely children,” he purred, the words silk over broken glass. “Lord Ashterion will be so pleased.”
“No!” The scream ripped from my throat, but it came out as nothing—less than a whisper, less than breath. I was drowning in my own helplessness, watching as those metal fingers closed around my daughter’s wrist.
Mireth’s amber eyes found mine across the room, wide with terror and confusion. Why wasn’t I saving them? Why wasn’t I fighting?
Why wasn’t I enough?
The soldier lifted her easily, ignoring her struggles, her small fists beating uselessly against his armour. Eryx began to wail, that heartbroken sound that meant the world was ending and nothing would ever be safe again.
They were taking them. Taking my babies. And I was frozen, useless, failing them when they needed me most.
The darkness began to eat the edges of my vision, creeping inward like smoke. The last thing I heard was Mireth calling my name, growing fainter and fainter until—
“ISARA!”
The voice crashed through the nightmare like lightning splitting stone. My eyes snapped open to find silver fire burning above me, pale and furious and achingly familiar.
Varyth.
He was shouting my name, but the sound seemed to come from very far away. The room was chaos, black flames lashing across the walls, hungry and wild and mine. They poured from me in torrents, turning the air thick with shadow and impossible cold.
Everything they touched withered. The wooden nightstand crumbled to ash. Tapestries disintegrated. The stone walls themselves began to crack and blacken under the onslaught.
And I couldn’t stop it.
The power roared through me like a dam bursting, all the terror and helplessness from the dream transmuted into something that could burn. It wanted to devour everything. The room, the castle, the entire fucking realm if that’s what it took to keep my children safe.
“Isara!” Varyth’s hands were on my shoulders now, his fingers burning against my skin. Mist flowed from him, trying to quell the inferno raging from my skin. “Look at me. Look at me.”
I tried to focus on his face, on those silver eyes that reflected my flames like mirrors. But the power kept pulling at me, begging to be unleashed, whispering promises of what it could do to anyone who dared threaten what was mine.
Burn them all. Turn them to ash and memory. Make them pay for even thinking—
“They’re safe.” Varyth’s words cut through the whispers. “Your children are safe, Isara. They’re sleeping down the hall. Lira is with them. No one has touched them.”
The flames faltered, just for a moment.
“It was a dream,” he continued, his grip on my shoulders steady and sure. “A nightmare. But it wasn’t real.”
The black fire began to recede, pulling back from the walls like a tide in reverse. The room looked like a battlefield. Furniture reduced to charcoal, scorch marks carved deep into stone, the air thick with the scent of destruction.
I was shaking. Violent tremors that I couldn’t control, my body trying to process the aftermath of that much power flowing through it. Sweat slicked my skin despite the cold fire, and I could taste copper in my mouth.
“I—” My voice came out as a croak. “The children—I need to see—”
“They’re safe,” Varyth repeated, but he was already moving, his hands sliding from my shoulders to help me sit up. “But yes. We’ll go see them.”
I tried to stand and nearly collapsed. Whatever the shadow fire had taken from me, it had left me hollow, wrung out. Varyth caught me before I could hit the floor.
“Easy,” he murmured, his tone almost gentle. “The power took a lot from you. You need to—”
“Now.” The word came out sharper than I’d intended. “I need to see them now.”
He studied my face for a moment, searching. Whatever he found there must have convinced him, because he nodded once.
“Alright. But you’re leaning on me whether you like it or not.”
I wanted to argue, to insist I could walk on my own, but my legs had other ideas. They shook like a newborn foal’s, barely able to support my weight. So I swallowed my pride and let Varyth guide me from the ruined chamber into the hallway beyond.
The corridor was chaos. Guards ran back and forth, their faces tight with panic. Servants pressed themselves against the walls as we passed, their eyes wide as they took in the destruction that followed in our wake.
Because it wasn’t just my room. Black scorch marks traced along the walls wherever we walked, as if the shadow fire was still bleeding from me in thin streams. The very air seemed to darken in my presence, reality bending slightly at the edges like heat shimmer.
“How far did it spread?” I asked, leaning heavily against Varyth’s solid warmth.
“Three floors.” His voice was neutral. “Most of the east wing. We’re assessing the damage.”
Three floors. Gods.
“Anyone hurt?”
“Minor injuries. Some of the guards closest to your room were knocked unconscious by the initial surge, but they’ll recover. For whatever reason, it didn’t harm anyone.” He glanced down at me, something unreadable flickering across his features. “But if I hadn’t reached you when I did—”
“But you did.” I didn’t want to think about what might have happened. Couldn’t bear the thought of my uncontrolled power hurting innocent people. “How did you know?”
“The wards.” Varyth’s grip tightened slightly around my waist as we turned a corner. “They reacted when your power spiked. Felt like the world was tearing itself apart from the inside out.”
We reached the children’s chambers, and I practically tore myself from Varyth’s arms in my desperation to get to the door. My hands shook as I pushed it open, my heart hammering against my ribs as I stepped inside.
Relief crashed over me so hard it nearly knocked me to my knees.
They were there. Both of them. Mireth curled up in her bed with Eryx tucked against her side, his tiny fist tangled in her dark hair.
Eryx’s own bed lay empty, abandoned whenever he’d climb in to join her.
They were breathing deep and even, faces soft with sleep, completely unaware of the chaos their mother had just unleashed.
Lira sat in a chair beside the bed, her kind eyes reflecting the lamplight. She looked tired but alert, clearly having been woken by whatever alarms my power had triggered.
“They never stirred,” she said, rising from her chair to meet me halfway across the room. “Whatever happened, the wards around this room held. They felt nothing.”
Behind me, I could hear Varyth speaking in low, urgent tones with someone. Probably giving orders about damage control, about explanations that would have to be made. But I couldn’t focus on anything except my children’s sleeping faces.
I wanted nothing more than to crawl into that bed beside them, to wrap them in my arms and never let go. To press my face against their hair and breathe in their warmth until the nightmare dissolved completely.
But I couldn’t. Not with shadow fire licking at the edges of my consciousness, not with power that had just carved through three floors of stone like it was parchment. What if I lost control again? What if the flames came back while I was holding them?
The thought of accidentally hurting them, of being the monster in their nightmares instead of the one protecting them from it, made bile rise in my throat.
“They need their rest,” Varyth said quietly from behind me, cutting through my spiral of terror. “And so do you.”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to plant myself in that chair and keep guard until dawn, until I was absolutely certain nothing would come for them in the dark. But my legs chose that moment to give out entirely, my knees buckling as the last of my strength finally crashed.
Varyth caught me, his arm sliding around my waist. “That’s what I thought.”
“I can’t leave them,” I whispered, even as I let him guide me toward the door. “What if—”
“What if you collapse from exhaustion and can’t protect them at all?” His voice was gentle but implacable. “Lira will watch over them. The guards will be doubled. Nothing will reach this room.”
He led me through corridors I didn’t recognise, past tapestries and archways that spoke of wealth and power. The destruction from my nightmare was evident here too, scorch marks traced along the walls like accusations, servants hurrying to assess the damage with wide, frightened eyes.
The chamber he brought me to was unfamiliar.
Large and beautiful in that casual way that screamed aristocracy.
Silk hangings in deep burgundy, a fireplace carved from black marble, windows that looked out over moonlit gardens.
The bed was massive, draped in midnight blue velvet that seemed to drink the lamplight.
This wasn’t a guest room. This was personal space, lived-in space.
His space.
“Varyth—”
“The guest quarters in your wing are uninhabitable,” he said simply, steering me toward the bed with hands that brooked no argument. “Everything within fifty feet of your room will need to be rebuilt.”