Chapter 28 #5
She lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Holy hell, Thane.” She glances at me, and there’s something unspoken in her gaze.
Rian hasn’t moved. Arms crossed. Eyes sharp. He’s been silent, but not passive—watching, absorbing. Then, finally, he speaks. His voice is calm. Controlled.
“If this is true . . . and now we find all of these scrolls and maps from the Shadow Clan—” His gaze flicks to the journal in Valen’s hands. “Then this isn’t just about you, Thane. This is about the entire realm.”
And I know, deep down, he’s right. Because some truths don’t just shift our path. They shift the ground beneath everyone’s feet.
Jarek is quiet. Jaw set. Hands flexing like he’s holding himself still. Then—he exhales sharply through his nose, dragging a hand through his blonde hair.
“Do you understand what this means?” His voice cuts—quiet, but sharp beneath.
“What will happen if people find out?” His gaze is steady, not judgmental, but heavy with warning.
“You’ve spent your life proving your worth to the Fire Clan.
Earning their loyalty. If this gets out, you and your family will be executed as traitors. ” He shakes his head once. Final.
Garrick hasn’t spoken. He’s still, too still. It makes my stomach twist.
Finally, he shifts his weight, glancing up at Thane with an expression I can’t quite place. Then—he exhales a short, humorless breath.
“Hell, brother. You really don’t do anything the easy way, do you?”
The words could have been a joke. Could have had that usual ease, that Garrick charm that always smooths over the cracks in the world. But this time he doesn’t smile.
“I’m with Jarek on this.” He crosses his arms. “You won’t just lose the Fire Clan—you’ll lose the entire realm.”
Garrick pauses for a moment before stepping forward.
Garrick, who has fought by Thane’s side longer than any of them.
Garrick, who was there when Thane became warlord.
Who has followed him without question, through every battle, every war, every impossible choice.
And when he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, but unshakable.
“You should have told us sooner.” Not an accusation. Something heavier. Like grief dressed in loyalty. “We would have understood.” His gaze is steady, unwavering. “We would have carried this burden with you.”
His words land like a hammer, like a promise that was made long before this moment.
He doesn’t react. Just stares. He’s so still, his eyes locked on his second in command, his friend.
Garrick takes another step forward. “You need to hear me now. We would never have turned away from you.” His voice hardens. “We never will.”
A pause. Then he grips Thane’s shoulder, firm, absolute.
“We are the Phoenix Ring before we are Fire Clan.”
Jarek and Rian exchange a glance before both of them nod.
Thane lets go of my hand. And without a word, he steps forward and embraces Garrick. Garrick doesn’t hesitate. He grips Thane just as tightly, his hold firm, unwavering. There’s nothing dramatic about it, nothing spoken.
But I feel the weight of it. Of everything Thane has carried alone for so long. Of everything he thought he had to keep buried. Of the truth that should have separated them but instead, only makes their bond stronger.
Rian and Jarek step forward, clapping a solid hand on Thane’s back, his shoulder.
A gesture of trust. Of acknowledgement. Of loyalty that does not waver.
They hold the moment for a beat longer, the firelight flickering around them, casting their shadows long against the stone. Then, slowly, they step apart.
The silence stays. No one breaks it. But everything has changed.
Valen straightens, voice low. “It’s time to go. I’m sure the escort is wondering about our whereabouts.”
Garrick turns, skeptical. “Right. Just one problem.” He gestures vaguely toward the passage. “We can’t go back the way we came unless you feel like getting swallowed whole by that demon worm.”
The memory flashes back—stone walls, that crushing screech. No way out.
I look toward Lyra—just in time to see the color drain from her face. She sways slightly, one hand pressing against her stomach. Too pale. Too still.
I step toward her, lowering my voice. “Lyra?”
She blinks quickly, like she’s trying to pull herself back, trying to shake it off. “I’m fine.”
She’s not. I see it in her mouth—tight, forced. She’s barely holding on.
I glance at Garrick. He’s already noticed. His gaze flicks over her, sharp, assessing. Without a word, he steps closer, his hand finding her elbow—gentle but firm, steadying her without making a show of it.
Lyra tenses for half a second, then relaxes just enough. She flicks a small, grateful smile in his direction.
Rian mutters, scanning the wall behind us. “I didn’t see an exit . . . ”
Valen watches me, assessing. “I can create portals,” he says. “But only when there’s one rider for each Element wielding beside me. Amara, you don’t just wield four elements—you channel. I believe you can open one.”
His words knock the breath from my lungs. “What?”
He doesn’t flinch. “You healed Lyra.”
My heart stutters. “That was different,” I say quickly. “I didn’t—”
“You had no training,” Valen cuts in. “No knowledge. But you did it.” His tone isn’t pushing, just factual. Certain. “You felt something, and you just knew. You acted.”
My mouth goes dry. I didn’t know how to heal anyone. No understanding of the mechanics, the risks, the control.
And yet, holding Lyra in my arms, I knew. Not because I was taught. Because it was already in me.
But this—this is different.
“Valen, I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
“Neither did you with Lyra.” His words hit clean and hard.
I shake my head, dread curling in my stomach. “Healing was different. That was—”
“Visceral.” Valen nods. “Instinctive. In your bones.”
I wasn’t thinking when I was healing Lyra. It just . . . came to me.
Valen steps closer, voice low—not challenging, but reminding. “We don’t actually know what your magics can do now.” The truth lingers—quiet, undeniable. Like a slow-burning fuse.
“You’re bonded to a dragon.” His eyes flick to me, unyielding. “And we haven’t had a chance to test the possibilities.”
The weight of it hits me all at once. I don’t know what I can do. None of us do. But if he’s right—if I could tear open a portal like he can, move all of us at once—then maybe, just maybe, we aren’t trapped here after all.
I glance at Thane. I’m already bracing for failure. This is impossible. It’s more than I’ve ever tried.
I don’t even know where to start.
But when I meet his gaze, his eyes are unwavering. Unshaken. A quiet confidence rooted in something deeper than logic. He believes in me. Even when I don’t.
He gives a small nod. Simple. Certain. Like he already knows I can do this.
I swallow, pulse flickering. I take a slow breath and turn back to Valen. “Tell me what to do.”
Valen studies me, voice calm. Measured. “We are here now.” He gestures to the chamber, to the towering shelves of books, to the dust and stone and the weight of history pressing in around us. “Envision two points in space—where we are and where you want to go.”
I nod. “Where I want to go.”
Valen nods. “It’s easier when you’ve already been there. So picture it—the escort in the forest, the dragons, the clearing.”
His words land like a whisper in my mind, stirring something low beneath my ribs.
I close my eyes. The escort. The forest, thick with towering trees, damp earth beneath my boots. The dragons, their massive forms shifting, their scales catching the light as they waited for us to return.
Calryx. She is there, just beyond my reach, just outside my grasp. I anchor to it—the scent, the sound, the feeling of belonging.
We are here. We need to be there.
Two points.
I exhale slowly, my fingers curling at my sides. “Okay.”
Valen lowers his voice. “Now, imagine folding those two points so that they meet. Like folding a napkin.”
A napkin.
It feels too simple, too ordinary for what he’s asking me to do, but I try.
One point—here. The chamber, the dust, the waiting silence. The second point—the forest. Calryx. The escort of horses and soldiers.
Valen watches me. “The space between them doesn’t matter. Distance doesn’t exist. You are simply making two points meet.”
I see it. The fold. One edge drawn toward the other. Pressed close. Touching.
“Now say these words:
“Water sees the path to commit
Earth shapes the needed split
Fire activates the hidden gate
Air sustains the traveler’s fate.”
I repeat them softly, folding the image in my mind—two corners drawn together like a napkin.
At first, nothing happens.
Then, a flicker. A spark, low in my chest, winding through my veins. Something stirs. Something that has been waiting. Watching.
I lift my hands instinctively, fingers trembling as a ripple of energy moves through me.
And then light.
Tiny, glittering specks rise around me, soft and weightless, floating like fireflies in a meadow on a summer’s night. At first, they drift aimlessly, flickering in and out of sight. Then they move.
Faster. Swirling, gathering, a pulse of motion that’s building, growing, spiraling outward. Their glow shifts from bright white to deep violet. A pulse of energy hums through the air, but it’s not wild. Precise. Intentional.
A sharp gasp. Lyra. I hear her suck in a breath, the sound sharp, disbelieving.
I barely register it before Thane moves. He steps closer. His eyes, wide, track the spiral of light, the impossible shape it’s becoming. He looks all around us. The glow on the shelves. The carved stone. The stars.
It’s alive. And it’s mine.
The specks swirl tighter.
They weave into form—into structure. A shape. A circle. Roughly my height, glowing, trembling with potential.
It’s working. The portal’s forming.