Chapter Sixty-Two
KAEL
Shadows pour from the treeline like smoke given shape.
I don’t stop—I sprint like the lives of my people depend on it.
Metal grinds against metal, but over it, I can hear the call of home. Of Shadows.
I cut through the overgrown path in the direction of the dungeons—where the opening to the bunkers are—and a shrill, screeching cry cleaves through the air.
“Kael!”
Fear seizes my chest.
Nalya.
The rattle of the cell gates commands my attention from deep inside the dungeons. She’s trapped.
But I can’t go to her. Not yet.
Tendrils of darkness snake across the ground through the jungle, parting around Elyssara’s light like wary beasts.
The pale-blue light of the Caelorian’s armor curves through the night sky in an arc.
Between them, Morrathys. He’s surrounded.
His face is pale, sweat sheening his temples, the shadows that keep the soldiers at bay are trembling with strain. Losing power.
He’s burning out.
He stands directly atop the opening covered with a wooden door that keeps the bunkers hidden from the naked eye.
The Caelorians try to approach, weapons wielded, strategy forming.
But Morrathys lashes out, shadows whipping at the soldiers, sending them scampering back.
“We take them by surprise,” I command, dropping into a low crouch.
Teddy does the same, and Lesara begins to spin her whipstone in silent swings.
“Stay here,” she murmurs to Elyssara, and her command ignites a wildfire of rage on Elyssara’s face.
“I don’t fucking hide,” Elyssara bites back, her tone venomous.
I ignore the exchange. I have to. I know Elyssara’s confused. I know she’s balancing the desperation to be held by her mother and the ache of being abandoned. But now is not the time.
We begin to approach, weapons drawn, ready to kill.
But Elyssara doesn’t wait.
She rewrites the story.
Her Lightborne magic floods her veins, turning her skin translucent.
Her face looks serene, peaceful in her power.
“I’m done,” she whispers—to herself, to her mother, I’m not sure.
No hiding.
No safety.
No protection.
Only facing it all.
She casts her magic out in streams of glistening gold.
Less emotional, less chaotic than before.
This time, her aim is true. Picking off soldiers with haunting precision, transforming their bodies into golden motes in a heartbeat.
Teddy and I stalk forward, our blades finding necks, whispering through ribs, driving sharp ends up into organs—cleaning up the soldiers my Starbound hasn’t reached yet.
Lesara wields her whipstones—they wrap around necks and thud into skulls with a sickening squelch that sounds as sweet as a fucking melody.
Until the final wet crack of bone rumbles through the night, and in its wake, is Death.
The rain takes the rest.
The air hangs thick and sour—iron, ozone, sweat. The last soldier twitches once before the earth swallows the sound.
Teddy’s already at the bunkers, dragging away what’s left of the wooden cover.
“People are alive down here!” he calls, voice muffled by smoke. “Go—help me get them out!”
Seren and Lesara move fast, lowering ropes into the dark. Gaunt faces and trembling hands reach up from the pit. Mothers, children, the wounded. The lucky.
Jax drops to her knees beside a boy half her size, murmuring soft comfort as she lifts him clear.
Elyssara stands at the edge of it all, glowing faintly in the rain—her light softer now, but steady. Controlled.
Morrathys staggers toward her, one hand pressed to his ribs. The shadows around him are thin as gauze, but they still move, still obey. “You burned them all,” he rasps, glancing at the smoldering heap of Caelorian armor. “Efficient.”
“And I won’t regret it for a heartbeat,” she answers, voice hoarse but certain.
“Regret needs time to build,” he says, but there’s no malice in it—just exhaustion.
I step between them. “Save the sermon. Where are the others? The Zerynthian soldiers? Varian?”
Morrathys’ face turns grim. And I already know he’s about to gut me with the truth.
“Gone.”
I exhale slowly, trying to contain the vicious, ungodly wrath that roils in my gut.
“Gone,” I echo in a whisper.
“Took less than thirty heartbeats—the Caelorians are unnatural. Inhuman. The corpses of your men were dragged off into the trees to draw you towards your friends in the square,” Morrathys explains, and my fucking heart stops.
Merrik.
Daelen.
Lifelong friends.
Family.
“Daelen and Merrik were valiant. They stayed standing long enough for me to get to the bunker. They saved your people.” Morrathys’ voice is grim, solemn.
Of course they did. Gods among men.
He hacks up a wet cough. “We can’t dwell on it.”
I don’t argue. Because he’s right.
And despite the blood seeping from my open wound, and Morrathys’ shadows guttering after prolonged use, we have to keep going.
Teddy pulls himself out of the bunker, breathing hard. “That’s everyone. At least half of Zerynthia has perished.” He shakes his head in disbelief. Disgust. “And that’s but a taste of their army. More will come. And we cannot defend our people if we’re in Kryntar.”
Silence spreads, heavy and absolute. Even the rain seems to fall slower.
Morrathys breaks it first. “Caeloria won’t send more here—they know we’re heading to Kryntar. This was a forward unit, not their true army.”
I drag a hand through my hair, the truth of it cutting clean through my chest. “We know. They’ll try to get to Kryntar before we do—they’ll want to take the castle, or at least establish the high ground. But if they kill Maldrak…”
“Unacceptable,” Morrathys commands, voice shifting into something holy.
“I agree, but how in the fucking Stars do you propose we take on an entire continent’s army with no army of our own? Not to mention Dravara—we don’t even know where they are! It’s seven people, compared to thousands,” Teddy argues, the General of War spitting cold, hard facts.
He’s not wrong. Gods, I hate it, but he’s not wrong.
But I’m not leaving this fight.
“The odds aren’t in our favor,” I announce. “And I won’t stand in your way if you wish to stay in Thornewood. You can remain here until this is over.”
I look around at their unflinching faces. Eyes pinned on me.
“You will forever be the bravest warriors in Aevryn for your efforts. If you’re not with me, leave now,” I say.
But they don’t baulk. No one moves.
A chorus of answers dance on the wind.
“I’m in.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“I’m fighting!”
But Lesara’s eyes are pleading, searching Elyssara’s face, and gripping her shoulders in supplication. “Little Star, you can’t. You have to live. You’re our only hope.”
Elyssara drags her gaze up, meeting her mother’s eyes.
“I have never truly lived. But I fight so I can. So we all can. I fight for hope,” Elyssara answers.
“Please, my darling girl,” Lesara begs, voice fragile and raw.
But Elyssara doesn’t crumble under her attempt at maternal love. She squashes it like a throat under her boot. “You haven’t mothered me for twenty years, Lesara. What makes you think you can start now?”
Lesara recoils at the use of her first name, hurt and broken by her daughter’s brutal snipe.
Elyssara shifts her gaze. The gold beneath her skin brightens, fierce and absolute. “We use Seren.”
There’s something in her tone that makes even Morrathys still. The air hums faintly with it—like her words carry power beyond sound.
Seren’s eyes snap up, surprised.
“Me?”
“Yes,” Elyssara confirms. “Open a Gateway directly into Kryntar Castle. We find Maldrak, his Arcanist, and we unbind the spell. We can use the Castle as our stronghold. When Morrathys’ power is restored, and with my magic uncaged, we can hold the line until Gellesk and his rebels arrive. They can’t be far away.”
I look at her, this woman made of Starlight and fury, and think that maybe the gods should start praying to her.
“El, that is a huge fucking gamble,” Ronyn says, “and that’s really saying something coming from me.”
“I could barely open a Gateway for one person!” Seren pleads, panic clawing at her, like she can feel the weight of the plan on her shoulders.
“There is no other option,” Elyssara counters, her tone regal. Queenly.
“We have to try,” Jax murmurs, her voice lacking her usual bite. “For our brothers.”
Teddy eyes Seren encouragingly, urging her on.
“What could possibly go wrong, eh?” Ronyn quips. “We end up in the wrong place? Could be worse, to be honest. Not that keen on certain death.”
Jax’s face doesn’t shift. Like she doesn’t even register the conversation—too caught in her own grief.
“We’ll need to open the Gateway somewhere there are no guards. Maldrak will be guarded and armed to the teeth. And if he can get his hands on any one of us… our minds are his,” I warn.
But Elyssara’s face is heavy with a plan. A dangerous one.
“The dungeons,” she says, her voice like cold steel—sharp and dangerous.
“Please, Little Star—see reason!” Lesara beseeches, her face twisted in desperation.
And Elyssara spins to her, closing the distance between them. “For the first time in my life, I can finally see clearly.” She turns back to the group. “The dungeons. We break this war apart from the inside.”
Seeing her like this—this powerful, this fucking commanding, wrecks me. This is the woman I kneel for.
Seren sucks in a strengthening breath, emboldening herself. “Yes,” Seren breathes in reluctant agreement. “We fucking win this thing with clever strategies and heart. Not numbers. What will I use to open the Gateway to the dungeons?”
Elyssara smirks, cold and savage. “I have the perfect thing.”
My eyes snap to hers.
“My scars.”