chapter fourty
ELYSIA
Cold air bites at my cheeks as our squad crests the ridge leading into the Celestrian Academy.
The building rises three stories, built of dark grey stone veined with creeping greenery and faintly luminescent vines and flowers.
The windows glow with dim amber light that spills across the snow-laden courtyard.
To the left stands the ward tower… much taller than I expected, its stone carved in spiralling, interlocking patterns.
Moonshade cerulium threads through every swirl, marbling upward until it meets the centre crystal at the peak.
I’d imagined the wards to look plain and functional, an ugly fortress of protection. But this is… hauntingly beautiful.
Flickering lanterns cast mottled light across the clearing. Warrior mages move in precise, efficient lines, crossing from dormitories to supply halls.
Commander Dareth Vale stands in the headquarters doorway, tall and iron-backed, arms crossed over leathers marked with the commander’s insignia: a crescent moon beneath four star-iron stars.
His cropped silver hair gleams in the lantern glow, but it’s the scars that snare my breath…
long, raised gashes cut from the top of his temple down past the line of his collar.
“Reinheart, you’re late.” His tone is crisp, authoritative.
Kaden’s voice is level and completely unbothered. “No. We’re early.”
One of Dareth’s brows lifts, and a ghost of a smirk threatens before it disappears. “We’ve received new intel from the outer border,” he says, turning and leading us deeper inside.
The headquarters is all polished stone and glowing runes, warmth spelled into the walls themselves.
Two staircases sweep upward on either side toward what I assume are training rooms, lecture halls, and offices.
And straight ahead, past the entry, a grand arched doorway opens into a meeting chamber reminiscent of The Council atrium.
“Which is?” Kaden asks, sounding almost bored.
“Border patrol confirmed at least twenty-five lacwyvern nesting in and around the eastern quarter ruins.”
My stomach drops. Even Sirena stiffens beside me.
Dareth continues, voice steady and practised. “I’ve arranged for four warrior mages to join you.”
Kaden’s hand flexes at the small of my back. “Abilities?”
“Earth, water, fire, and ice.”
Kaden nods once. “Where are they?”
“Packing supplies and armouring up,” Dareth answers. “You should all do the same.”
We step into the supply hall. A long table is piled with provisions—bread, dried meats, powdered soups, spellcloth wraps and tonics, water filters, canteens, and warmth-powered travel runes for tents.
As my gaze lifts, four figures come into view.
“Eris Lockewood,” Commander Dareth gestures to a woman as we advance on the group. “Your earth wielder.”
She steps forward, inclining her head as rune-light bounces off her sun-kissed olive skin.
Her brown hair is plaited in a crown, and striking forest-green eyes flecked with hazel meet mine in a passing glance.
She’s breathtaking, tall and sculpted from years of hard training.
Her gaze flicks to Kaden for a single, sharp beat before she schools her expression into neutrality.
One of the men steps forward slightly as Commander Dareth begins to introduce him, and I recognise the name instantly from all of Cole’s gossip-filled letters.
Varo.
The warrior Cole had described to me in ink and half-joking admiration.
He’s tall and broad-shouldered, skin kissed dark by the sun, blonde hair cut short for practicality.
Dark brown eyes slowly assess each of us.
His arms are a tapestry of tattoos, jagged lines that almost look like a child had taken a quill to him overnight.
Beside him stands Edric, built just as solidly but slightly softer at the edges. Dark brown hair frames an olive-toned face, and honey-coloured eyes are faintly rimmed with blue. He looks more boyish than the others, though the tension in his posture says he’s anything but inexperienced.
And then there’s the third.
Darion looks like something torn from a fae folklore tale and forced into flesh.
Tall, broad and powerfully built, skin as fair as my own, his strawberry-blond hair pulled back into a loose knot at the nape of his neck.
Silver, almost colourless eyes gleam beneath heavy lashes.
A jagged scar trails down the side of his neck, only adding to the devastating, haunting beauty of him.
I almost can’t look away.