Chapter Thirty-Eight
When Lina returned, she carried a large jug of shimmering liquid into the war room—something that moved like oil dancing with water.
Ryder and I had barely managed an hour of sleep before Ziek swept into the tent with our fighting gear.
It was all black leather, tight-fitting yet breathable, difficult to pierce but flexible enough to move in.
I asked where they’d gotten the materials for the suits, and he simply replied, “The Hollow provides.”
It was the same answer he gave when I questioned what the shields were made of.
But I recognised it—the texture, the sheen, the layered hardness. It looked disturbingly similar to something we’d encountered before: the skin of the tenari, shaped into armoured plates.
Something different shimmers in River’s eyes—not apprehension or fear, but a quiet sort of defeat. He’s undoubtedly glad I retrieved the gem, yet there’s a shadow of sadness too, lingering ever since Ryder and I walked out of the tent hand in hand.
“You ready?” Nala asks, though we both know it isn’t really a question.
A taut silence stretches between us, thin enough to snap with the slightest touch, our heavy breaths filling the space.
None of us are ready—how could we be? We’re walking into the unknown, and it feels as though the world hangs in the balance.
Our balance. One wrong move, and everything could come crashing down.
***
The air feels thin, scraped out, as though the Siphon isn’t just draining power anymore—it’s stealing oxygen too. Even with this new hum of energy thrumming through me, my lungs still tremble. My body knows what my mind keeps trying to deny: Nyxos is close. Too close.
We’ve been lucky so far—through the Hollow, the trials, Lunaris’ judgment. Luck feels like a fragile thread now, stretched to its final strand. It’s strange, standing here in this moment, knowing our entire history balances on a single, teetering beam. It could tip either way, and we’ll go with it.
These next few hours—minutes, even—feel impossibly small, yet they carry the full weight of the world I know. The world I’m trying to save. The world that may not survive if I fail.
Every step is hurried as Nala and I race toward the elions, but the cable carts crawl along the lines at a pace that feels deliberately torturous—like they were Influenced just to mock our urgency.
I could’ve opened a portal, but Nala insisted this route would give us a better vantage point.
Maybe she would’ve been right if the sky wasn’t so choked with clouds.
For a moment, it feels like we’re rising straight into them, swallowed whole, the world blurred like a smudged lens.
Finally, the wind shifts, peeling the clouds apart.
The view opens. Both castles sit beneath us, quiet and untouched, as if this were the first day of taming all over again.
I wonder if the walls can feel it—the power that once surged through them, thinning, draining away—or if they’re blissfully unaware. I’m not sure which is worse.
The wind howls low, threading through the treetops in strange patterns, carving a labyrinth of movement between the leaves. The warehouse is tucked away, almost invisible, but each gust reveals a sliver of it—just enough to make my breath hitch a little more every time.
“Look there,” Nala whispers. Her eye is pressed to the telescope’s lens, her voice unsteady. “There’s more.”
Her face drains of all colour, turning as pale as the clouds drifting beside us.
When I follow her gaze through the telescope, my stomach drops.
More people—far more than before—are moving between the trees.
For a heartbeat, I think the Siphon has chosen peace, that he’s finally releasing his hold on them.
But the longer I look, the sharper the truth becomes.
Their eyes don’t shift. Their steps don’t waver. They move with the same stiff, eerie precision—two by two, perfectly in sync.
An army.
He’s taken our friends… and reshaped them into soldiers.
My throat tightens as new faces appear in the crowd, faces I’ve never seen before.
It’s most of Palidonia.
Each breath feels like swallowing shards of glass.
“How are we supposed to get through his army without hurting any of them?” I whisper into the fogged window. The question trembles out of me, barely holding itself together.
Nala doesn’t answer.
***
The valleys hold their breath as we hop off onto the steep ground, our lungs burning with the effort.
The elions have torn through the roofs of the farm buildings, leaving chaos in their wake.
Bones scatter the floor like broken chalk, and white feathers trail out from the barn doors, fluttering in the fog like shredded memories.
The animals clearly didn’t stand a chance.
My throat tightens, and I swallow hard, my eyes scanning the misted valleys that stretch endlessly below.
Then—a pink flash dances across my vision. I blink hard, convinced I’m seeing things. Another follows, drifting lazily through the fog, soft and oddly alive. My stomach twists as a third settles on the ground just ahead.
I step back sharply, heart hammering. My mind screams before my mouth does.
“A bunny?” Nala whispers, her voice barely audible, fragile against the heavy silence of the valley. Her hot breath curls into the mist, merging with the damp cold.
It lifts again, wings flapping against the fog, tiny but deliberate. My eyes narrow, scanning it, trying to reconcile what I know with what I see. The pink fluff is innocent, yes—but I know better.
“I suppose these are the only things the elions didn’t dare touch,” I mutter, wary and tense. My gaze tracks it as it flutters closer, landing cautiously on Nala’s shoulder.
She freezes, torn between swatting it away and letting it rest. Her chest rises rapidly; each shaky breath mirrors my own. The bunny’s tiny nose twitches as it explores her hair, then her neck, then the folds of her pocket, sniffing, probing like a predator testing boundaries.
“What’s it doing?” she whispers, wide-eyed, muscles taut.
“I… I don’t know,” I admit, my voice tight with unease.
Its little head dips completely into her pocket, nibbling at something inside. Nala’s gasp is soft, a mix of surprise and relief.
“Ohhhh,” she laughs quietly, a sound that’s almost afraid to exist here. She fishes in her pocket and produces a half-eaten granola bar. The bunny freezes, then somersaults for it, nimble and precise. For a heartbeat, I swear I see it grin.
Gone is the memory of flames licking at our boots, the acrid smoke, the heat that had singed our hair. Now it sits in Nala’s arms, small and doe-eyed, nibbling the granola like a cherished treasure.
“You’re… not so bad after all,” Nala murmurs, fingers buried in the silky fur. Thin tendrils of black smoke drift lazily from its nose as it purrs softly. My chest tightens as I watch her eyes light up, wide with wonder, and for a moment, I feel the same cautious hope stirring in me.
“Asha… the thing doesn’t like fire,” she says softly, still stroking the creature. Her tone carries awe now, not fear, and for the first time, I allow myself to believe these bunnies might not just be threats—they might be… allies.
The bunnies flutter away in an instant, pink streaks disappearing into the fog. Nala fights the urge to snatch her new companion and hold it close, but the instinct to flee is written in their every twitch and flutter.
I follow the trail of movement, and then my gaze catches Craize’s from across the valley.
One look is all it takes. In less than a minute, he’s beside me, the earth barely whispering under his massive paws.
The rest of his pack sweeps in behind him like shadows pulled by an unseen tide, their forms cutting through the mist with silent purpose.
My hand sinks into Craize’s fur, warmth blooming against my cold palms. His presence steadies me. For a moment—just a sliver of stolen time—his soft trill eases the tightness coiled in my chest. Even the impending doom seems to pause, as if the world itself is holding its breath.
‘This power looks good on you, young one.’
Craize presses his head harder into my palm, a low rumble vibrating through him.
“I don’t feel ready for it,” I admit quietly. “I don’t even know if I’m using it right.”
His ears flick forward, attentive.
‘Power is rarely used right at first. It bends… it shifts… it tests.’ He studies me, golden eyes deep as old forests. ‘But it listens to you. That is enough.’
I exhale shakily. “We need you,” I whisper, letting the weight of it settle between us. “All of you.” I motion to his pack, their eyes glinting with mirrored resolve. “The Siphon… It’s stronger than before. I can feel it. If we’re going to have a chance—”
‘Say no more,’ Craize cuts in gently. His head rises, posture lifting with a kind of regal certainty. ‘The Siphon threatens the balance. Threatens you. That alone is reason enough.’
“That’s not a small thing you’re offering,” I say. “I won’t have any of you die for me.”
A low, amused huff escapes him.
‘We do not die for you, Asha. We fight with you.’
The words lodge somewhere deep in my chest.
“I just… this time, I want to save everyone without loss.”
Craize steps closer, until his forehead presses against mine. The contact is grounding—solid, ancient, comforting.
‘Listen carefully, young one.’ His voice resonates through me like a heartbeat.
‘You carry fear. That is good. It keeps you alive. But do not let fear convince you that you stand alone. You have never stood alone.’
My throat tightens. “How do you always know what to say?”
He gives a soft chuff.
‘Wisdom comes with age… and from watching you stumble into danger more often than any creature I’ve ever met.’
I huff a laugh. “That’s not comforting.”
‘It wasn’t meant to be.’ A pause. ‘But this is: we stand with you.’
The pack fans out behind him, forming a crescent—silent, deadly, loyal. Their combined growl hums through the ground, vibrating up my legs and into my bones. Not aggression. Promise.
Across the valley, the Siphon stirs, the air crackling with its hungry pulse. A storm waiting to devour.
Craize lowers his head, gaze fixed on the darkness ahead.
‘Give the word, Asha. And we will tear fate apart if we must.’