Chapter 23
SERIS
The tent flap closed behind me with a finality that echoed louder than the assembled army outside.
The silence was suffocating. It amplified every racing thought and doubt I'd been keeping at bay through motion and distraction.
I crossed to the cot and sat, hands gripping my knees hard enough to whiten my knuckles.
I had only moved objects through the Veil. During my training with Lyralei, she instructed me to teleport training dummies through it. One or two at a time. Sometimes, the dummies came back missing a limb or two.
Five hundred was insanity.
My magic had killed trained mages when it erupted uncontrolled. Had erased void-touched wolves from existence. Had nearly unmade Daemon himself before he talked me back from the edge.
Now I was supposed to compress space around an entire battalion and relocate them to the capital gates without accidentally hurting an ally? Ludicrous.
"Breathe." I whispered the word to the empty tent as I forced air through lungs that wanted to lock tight.
The memory surfaced, unwanted. I stood outside that watchtower, power exploding outward in waves of annihilation. Daemon's voice cut through the chaos, grounding me before I erased everything.
What if that happened again? What if my control of the Veil spiraled and I didn't just fail the teleportation? What if I unmade five hundred people who trusted me?
My hands shook.
Outside, metal scraped against leather as someone adjusted armor. A low voice called out instructions as the organized preparation of soldiers continued despite my anxiety.
I closed my eyes and forced myself past the fear.
Mechanics. Lyralei's voice echoed through memory, patient and precise.
Space is negotiable.
Teleportation wasn't about moving bodies. It was about redefining the boundaries between two locations and compressing the distance until here and there occupied the same point simultaneously.
The number of people didn't matter. The focus was the parts of the Veil surrounding them.
The realization struck cold and clear.
If they stood close enough, tight enough, I wasn't moving five hundred individual targets. I was moving the space they occupied. One boundary. One compression. One shift.
The fear didn't vanish, but it transformed into something workable. Mathematical.
I could do this. I had to.
More sounds filtered through the canvas as boots struck stone. The rhythmic thunk-thunk-thunk of arrows being counted and packed. Someone laughed.
Daemon's voice rose above the others. "Defensive formation stays tight. Anyone who breaks the perimeter around Seris, you pull them back. She needs space to work, but she needs protection more."
"Understood, sir."
"Good. Malzaun?"
"Front line's ready. They know the signal."
The words washed over me, each one a reminder that this wasn't theoretical. It wasn't practice. These people were preparing to march into a battle that would determine whether the resistance, and our king, survived or died trying.
And I was the hinge point. The reason they could strike deep instead of dying at the outer walls. Their resolve was more absolute than any belief I had ever held.
My hesitation would kill them just as surely as failure.
I knelt on the stone floor, pressing my palms flat against the cold rock. Closed my eyes. Let the tent, the noise, and the fear fade into background static.
Breath in. Hold. Release.
Again.
The taught discipline Lyralei drilled into me over weeks of training took hold. My heartbeat slowed. The racing thoughts quieted to navigable streams instead of violent torrents.
Once I had fully scanned my inner space, I reached outward.
The Veil responded immediately. It was vast and infinite. I could feel it pressing against reality like silk stretched thin. I felt its tension, the places where it bulged dangerously inward, the spots where it held firm and strong.
But for the first time since learning what I was, I didn't just feel the danger.
I felt the beauty.
The Veil wasn't a weapon. Wasn't a curse or a burden or a monstrous inheritance. It was the boundary between dimensions. It was the membrane that kept reality stable and distinct. Without it, everything collapsed into undifferentiated chaos.
And I could touch it. Could shape it. Could use it to protect instead of destroy.
The realization settled into my bones with crystalline clarity.
My mother had wielded this power to save enslaved children. To build sanctuaries. To hold back the Devourer's corruption.
I could do the same. I could do more.
The fear didn't disappear, but it transformed. Instead of terror, it became cautious respect for both its beauty and its potential for destruction. I was no longer paralyzed, but simply aware of the Veil.
I opened my eyes and rose, legs steady beneath me.
Outside, the preparation continued. Metal rang against metal. Orders were given and confirmed. Somewhere in the distance, someone prayed in a language older than the kingdom itself.
I crossed to the tent flap and pushed it open.
The cavern stretched before me. Five hundred soldiers were arranged in perfect battalions, weapons gleaming in the flickering torchlight. Every face turned toward me as I stepped into view.
Complete silence.
They didn't kneel. Didn't bow. Just watched with the kind of focus that came from knowing exactly what they needed to do, and the risk they were taking.
Daemon stood at the front of the nearest formation, shadows coiling loosely around his forearms. His dark eyes found mine across the distance, and something passed between us without words.
Ready?
I gave the smallest nod.
Ready.
Kaelen stepped forward from her position near the command group. "Battalions, compress formation. Teleportation requires minimal spatial distance."
The organized chaos resumed immediately. Soldiers shifted closer together, tightening ranks until the four battalions became dense clusters of armored bodies. My protective guard moved to surround me, creating a clear perimeter while staying close enough to be included in the working.
Malzaun's voice carried across the space. "Shields up on my mark. Anyone who shifts position during transit risks separation. Stay together."
"Archers, secure your quivers. Last thing we need is arrows falling mid-transport."
"Front line, weapons sheathed until we land. No accidents."
The instructions flowed smoothly and practiced. These weren't conscripts being herded into position. They were veterans who understood magical logistics.
I walked toward the center of the formation, my guard shifting to accommodate without breaking their protective circle.
The stone beneath my feet vibrated with barely contained energy.
Five hundred heartbeats, five hundred breath patterns, five hundred sources of heat and life compressed into a space barely large enough to contain them.
Daemon materialized at my side. "How much time do you need?"
"Two minutes to establish the working. Maybe less."
"You have it." He turned to the assembled forces. "Final check. If there are injuries or conditions that might destabilize during transport, speak now."
Silence.
"Loose equipment?"
A soldier near the back shifted, securing a knife that had come loose.
"Anything else?"
Nothing.
Daemon looked at me. "They're yours."
The weight of command settled across my shoulders like physical pressure. I'd never led anyone. Never been responsible for more than my own survival.
But these people weren't asking me to lead. They were asking me to move them, to use the power I spent months fearing and only weeks learning to control.
My inexperience meant nothing against the years these soldiers had spent waiting for me. It meant nothing against the reality of Daemon’s curse.
I stepped fully into the center of the protective circle and closed my eyes.
The Veil rose to meet me like an old friend.
I didn't force it. Didn't grab or pull or demand. I just touched the fabric of reality with the gentlest pressure and asked.
The response came immediately. It was warm and willing, ready to bend if I gave it proper direction.
Then something strange happened.
My sight traveled through the Veil. It took me to the capital gates. I saw the broad plaza where Kaelen's scouts had reported minimal guard presence during shift changes. The specific coordinates, mapped and confirmed through days of intelligence gathering.
Then I returned to the space around me. The compressed formations. The exact boundaries where the soldiers ended and empty air began.
Not five hundred people.
One space.
One boundary.
One shift.
I began to compress the distance between here and there, folding reality like cloth until the two locations pressed against each other, with only the thinnest membrane separating them.
The Veil resisted, not out of malice, but because what I asked violated fundamental laws. Space didn't fold easily. Distance meant something.
But the Veil recognized me and my bloodline. When it registered that I wasn't forcing, but negotiating and asking, the resistance softened.
I pushed deeper into the working, feeling every soldier in my awareness like individual threads in a tapestry. I could sense their heat signatures, breathing patterns, and even the slight variations in height and weight that made each one distinct.
All of it had to move together.
I wove the Veil around us like wrapping fabric, careful and precise. I made sure there were no gaps where someone could slip through or be left behind.
My protective guard shifted closer without breaking formation. Daemon's presence burned bright at the edge of my awareness, his curse-touched blood responding to my magic with uncomfortable familiarity.
The working stabilized.
I opened my eyes and found five hundred faces watching me with absolute trust.
"On my mark." My voice came out steady despite the power thrumming through every nerve. "Stay exactly where you are. Don't fight the sensation. Let it happen."
Nods rippled through the formations.
I looked at Daemon. He gave the slightest inclination of his head.
Now or never.
I reached for the compressed distance and pulled.
Reality folded.