Chapter 73
LXXIII.
DANTE
Athousand freed souls stood in his courtyard.
Dante let that number sink in. A thousand who'd looked at a mortal woman and decided to follow her into war. Who'd watched the Reaper stand silent at the edge of his own rally and chosen to believe anyway.
Brynn had done that. Given them something he never could.
She stood beside him now, the circlet gleaming against her dark hair as the transport circle's light faded behind them.
Ward-symbols etched into the black metal hummed with residual power.
He could feel it where his shadows brushed her skin.
Her magic and his, tangling together like they couldn't help themselves.
The mobilization was already underway.
His death-knights had moved. Weapons were distributed in orderly lines, armor checked and reinforced.
Shadow-guards coordinated with ward-keepers, movements precise as clockwork—twenty-five hundred of his own warriors who'd served him since before mortal memory, who knew his commands before he gave them.
Combined with Nightfall's thousand, that made thirty-five hundred souls under his direct command.
Thirty-five hundred souls he was about to lead into a battle—some of them wouldn't survive.
Aldric approached, armor scarred from years of service. "Palace forces ready. Nightfall integration underway. They'll be battle-ready within the hour."
"Casualty projections?"
Aldric's form flickered. The only sign of emotion in a warrior who'd died facing impossible odds and chose to keep fighting anyway. "Forty percent if we're fortunate. Sixty if Caelum commits his full force."
Forty percent.
Fourteen hundred souls. Ceasing to exist. Because he'd asked them to fight.
The number lodged somewhere behind his ribs and refused to move.
"Coordinate with the other Death Lords," he said. The words came out even. They had to. "Communication signals active two hours before we move."
Aldric saluted and moved off.
Dante's gaze found Brynn across the courtyard. She stood with the ward-keepers, hands moving through magical constructs, circlet glowing as she synchronized the communication network.
He knew that look. Had seen it on warriors before battle, when acknowledging terror meant breaking.
His shadows reached for her without permission. Crossing the courtyard, needing to touch her even from a distance.
She wouldn't last two hours like that. And he needed her sharp when they hit Caelum's fortress—needed her whole, not hollowed out by fear she refused to face.
But she had to finish the synchronization first. And he had coordination to handle.
He'd find her after.
Dante moved through the preparations on instinct.
Confirming positions. Checking supply lines.
Answering questions from captains who needed orders.
The whole time, part of him watched her across the courtyard.
Watched her shoulders creep higher with tension she wouldn't release.
Watched her hands move faster, more desperate, like she could outrun her own fear if she just worked hard enough.
When she finally slipped away from the ward-keepers and disappeared into the palace, he gave himself five minutes. Let her have a moment alone before he followed.
He found her on the eastern balcony.
She stood with her back to him, hands gripping the stone railing hard enough that her knuckles had gone white. Below her, thirty-five hundred souls checked weapons. Reinforced armor. Said goodbye to people they might never see again.
Her whole body was rigid. Braced against something that was coming, whether she was ready or not.
He crossed the balcony without a sound, shadows reaching her first—tendrils curling around her ankles, announcing his presence.
She didn't turn.
"Forty to sixty percent casualties." Her voice barely carried. "That's what Aldric said."
Shadows wound around her waist. He pulled her back against his chest—an anchor in the dark.
"Yes."
"Fourteen hundred to two thousand souls. Who trusted us. Who believed what we said." A tremor ran through her. "They're going to die because we asked them to fight."
"They're going to die because they chose to." He covered her hand on the stone, feeling how cold her fingers were. "Everyone down there knows the cost. They came anyway."
Her laugh was bitter. "Is that supposed to make it better?"
"No." He pressed his mouth to her hair. "Nothing makes it better. You just carry it."
She went quiet. Below them, the blacksmith directed younger fighters toward the armory. Ward-magic flared bright as the network linked across realms. Somewhere, someone was crying. Somewhere else, someone was laughing too loud, the way people did when they were terrified.
"I should check the ward calculations." She pulled away from the railing, from him. "Make sure the synchronization is perfect. If there's any weakness—"
He caught her wrist.
"Brynn."
She wouldn't look at him. Kept her eyes on the courtyard, the preparations, anywhere but his face.
His shadows wound around her other wrist. "Look at me."
"I can't." Her voice cracked. "If I look at you right now, I'll fall apart. And I can't afford to fall apart. I need to stay focused. I need to keep working. If I stop—"
He pulled her into the shadowed alcove beside the balcony doors. Away from the courtyard. Away from watching eyes. Into darkness where nothing existed but his power and her heartbeat.
"Dante—"
He backed her against the wall. Framed her face with his hands, gentle in a way that contradicted everything he was.
"I need you focused when we hit that fortress." Rough. Almost breaking. "Not drowning. Not paralyzed. And you won't get there by running from this."
"Too late." Her hands fisted in his shirt.
"I'm already drowning. I can't stop thinking about all the ways this goes wrong.
Losing you. You losing me. Both of us dying and Caelum winning anyway.
" Her breath hitched. "All those souls are going to die because I opened that gateway.
Because I walked into his trap like an idiot.
They're cleaning up my mess with their lives, Dante. "
His shadows wound tight around them both.
"Caelum built this. Not you." His thumbs brushed her cheekbones. "He corrupted the wards. He spent ages planning. You were just the catalyst he manipulated."
"That makes it worse." Her eyes were bright with tears she refused to let fall. "I should have seen it. I should have known. And instead I handed him everything he wanted."
Something cracked open behind his ribs. The same place where fourteen hundred casualties had lodged and wouldn't let go.
He kissed her.
Hard and desperate, edged with the terror of tomorrow. She gasped against his mouth and then kissed him back just as fiercely. Her hands slid into his hair, fisting, pulling him closer like she could crawl inside him and hide.
Shadows wrapped them in darkness until the alcove disappeared. Until the war disappeared. Until nothing existed but her body against his, her hands in his hair, her mouth moving like she was trying to memorize him.
When they broke apart, both breathing hard, he kept her close. Forehead pressed to hers. Shadows holding them in their own private world.
"Promise me something." Barely a whisper.
His hands tightened on her face. Thumbs brushing away tears she probably didn't know were falling. "Anything."
"If it comes down to closing the gateway or saving me..." Her green eyes burned into his. "Close the gateway. Don't let Caelum win because you chose me."
Everything in him rebelled.
"No."
"Dante—"
"No." His grip turned frantic. Shadows lashed out hard enough to crack the stone behind her. "Don't ask me to watch you die and do nothing. Don't ask me to finish the mission like you meant nothing."
"I'm asking you to save the realms." Her hands covered his, holding them against her face. "Even if it costs—"
"Everything." Darkness solidified around them. Frost crawled across the stone. "It would cost everything. You don't understand what you're asking."
"I do." She held his gaze, unflinching, tears streaming down her face. "That's why you have to promise. If I'm worried you'll sacrifice the world for me, I'll hesitate. I'll look for another way. And Caelum wins."
His shadows writhed.
She was right.
If he fell protecting her and Caelum won, she'd die anyway. Everything would die. The realms would collapse. Reality would fracture.
But choosing the mission over her—
He closed his eyes.
"The same applies to you." The words scraped out of him like broken glass. "If I fall, you finish it. Close the gateway. Survive. No heroic sacrifices. You live, Brynn."
"Dante—"
"That's the deal." His thumb traced her cheekbone. "We both come back. Or we finish the mission, and whoever survives carries that weight forever. Knowing they chose duty over the person who mattered most."
His forehead pressed harder against hers. Shadows wrapped them deeper into darkness.
"But know this." His voice dropped to something that barely qualified as human.
"If death tries to take you from me, I will tear through every realm to bring you back.
I will unmake reality itself before I let you go.
" His hand slid to the back of her neck.
"You're mine. And I keep what's mine. Even if I have to rebuild existence to do it. "
Her breath shuddered.
Then she was kissing him again.
He slowed it this time. Made it aching. Tender. Memorizing the taste of her mouth. The way she fit against him. The sound she made when his shadows traced her spine.
In case this was the last time.
She matched him. Fierce and fragile at once. Her hands sliding around his neck, holding on like he was the only solid thing left.
When they finally pulled apart, neither moved far. Shadows wrapped around them both like armor against everything waiting outside.
Crimson light flared across the courtyard. Seraphina's signal, burning violently against the twilight.
Time was up.
Brynn glanced toward it. Something shifted in her face. Fear and grief folding themselves away, buried under focus. "That's Seraphina. The armies are ready."
"I know." His hands lingered on her waist. "Two hours."
"Two hours." She straightened. He watched her rebuild her walls, brick by brick. "Every signal synchronized. Every contingency planned. We can do this."
"Brynn."
"I'm fine." She touched his face. "We'll do what needs doing. Both of us."
They'd both come back.
Or they'd finish the mission and carry that weight forever.
He took her hand. Threaded his fingers through hers. Led her out of the shadows and back toward the courtyard.
Back into the twilight and thirty-five hundred souls preparing for war.