CHAPTER 54 - Warning bells
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Sylvos' carriage was large, comfortable, and gilded with every luxury an emperor could offer. I used to pass time talking with Ryn while playing with Vyvy.
But now... now there was nothing.
Ryn was gone.
Ever since I'd given myself to Sylvos, he hadn't appeared in Raincatcher since. I suppose I couldn't blame him... But I still searched. Still called his name. Still hoped... He'd be there again.
But he wasn't.
And each passing day, the empty feeling grew wider. Like I'd lost a part of myself and the hole inside me was beginning to rot.
The nights were easier. At least the ones where Sylvos was there. Those nights, when his arms wrapped around me and his breath warmed my skin, I felt whole again.
But on the nights he was away, the dreams came.
They were worse than before. The deaths I saw were no longer hazy or fleeting — they were vivid and sharp. Cutting into my sleep until I woke shaking and drenched in sweat.
They felt real.
And being alone only made it worse.
I hated it. The silence. The emptiness. The way my own thoughts turned against me. I realized, more than ever, how much I needed Ryn's voice to keep me together. Without him, I was drifting.
But when summer passed without another word from him... When we reached Driftwoode's capital and still, he did not return... I could no longer deny it.
He had given up on me.
I paced Sylvos' tent like a caged animal.
He was currently away for a war meeting.
As Beast Warden, I should've been there but the whispers regarding me had gotten so bad, Sylvos began hiding me away from everyone.
Admittedly, I was grateful. I was already on the edge with the hole inside me.
I didn't want to deal with vultures picking at my wound. ..
Either way, I was grateful. The silence, though suffocating, was still better than the vultures circling my heart, waiting to tear it apart.
And there was an even bigger problem.
Tomorrow...
Tomorrow Pyree would arrive just as I had asked in my letter. I was certain of it. I had full faith in my sister for taming that boy.
The problem was that my plans had changed.
When I first called for Pyree's aid, it was with one goal — to see Thornmont destroyed. To see Sylvos brought to his knees. Yet now, the thought of Pyree crushing his army turned my stomach. I did not want to see him broken. I did not want to watch another take his life.
Somewhere along the way, my useless heart had betrayed me.
I only wanted them to stop him. Sylvos was a conqueror, yes, but he was not reckless. With Pyree's forces pressing from one side and Driftwoode's fleet bristling on the other, even he would see the risk. Two armies against his was a gamble he would not take.
He would back down.
But for that to happen, I needed to make sure Pyree understood.
I would go to the Pyreen camp. I would negotiate, beg if I had to, convince them not to attack. Then I would return and tell Sylvos I had secured a truce. Convince him to let it all go.
And so, after pacing and weighing the risks, I made my choice.
Tonight was my chance. The camp was restless, the air tense with the weight of the coming siege. And Sylvos was away preparing. I could slip away unseen.
Pulling on a heavy cloak, I secured my daggers at my hip and drew the hood low to shadow my face.
I was almost to the tent's back exit when a voice stopped me cold.
"Going somewhere?"
I froze. Slowly, I turned.
Cerys stood at the entrance, the lamplight turning her pale hair to threads of silver. Her snow-white skin seemed to glow against the darkness, and her empty blue eyes caught mine like shards of ice. She held a bottle of wine loosely in her hand, walking in as though I had invited her.
"I... just wanted to take a stroll," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady even as unease slithered through me.
She hummed softly and wandered to the table, setting the bottle down.
"Then share a glass of wine with me first," she said.
My pulse quickened. This was not the time. Every second I lingered was a second wasted. But refusing her outright might draw suspicion.
With a tight smile, I lowered my hood and crossed the tent.
I watched her pour two goblets, the red liquid glinting like blood under the lantern light. She slid one toward me. I reached for it... but stopped, my hand hovering above the stem.
Cerys noticed. Her lips curved faintly, and without hesitation, she lifted her own goblet and took a slow sip.
Still, I hesitated.
Her eyes, unblinking, met mine. Then, as if to mock my caution, she took another sip — longer this time.
Only then did I allow myself to relax, taking the goblet and drinking.
"So," she said, swirling her drink lazily, "how have you been doing?"
"I'm fine," I replied too quickly.
Silence stretched between us. She didn't say anything else. Didn't prod. Just watched me with that unreadable expression, sipping her wine.
"...Was there something you needed help with?" I asked finally, if only to fill the space.
Cerys tilted her head.
"You're already helping."
I blinked.
"How?"
"Let's just say... Our interests align. I didn't want to get involved, but I'm left with no choice."
"What interests?" I asked.
She shrugged, as if it didn't matter.
Then, before I could respond, she slipped her other hand into her sleeve and drew out a small vial. Taking her time, she uncorked it and drank the contents casually.
"What is that?" I asked, my stomach twisting.
"An antidote," she said simply.
My fingers tightened around the goblet.
"...Antidote for what?"
Cerys' smile widened, but her eyes remained dead and still.
"For the wine, of course."
The goblet slipped from my grasp, clattering to the table. A wave of dizziness crashed over me, my limbs growing heavy, my vision blurring at the edges.
"No..." I tried to stand, but my knees buckled.
The last thing I saw was Cerys' pale figure watching me with that same calm smile as the darkness swallowed me whole.
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I woke to the whisper of curtains stirring in the sea breeze, to the distant cries of gulls and the steady roar of waves against the cliffs.
Slowly, I sat up.
The bed beneath me was softer than anything I had touched in months, its fine linens carrying the faint scents of salt and flowers. My thoughts were slow, clouded.
This place... I had never seen it before.
The chamber was carved from white marble veined with gold, and sunlight spilled through the arched balcony doors, warming the floor in glowing pools. Beyond them, the ocean stretched endlessly, its surface glittering like glass. When I looked down, I wore a pale blue nightgown.
"I thought you'd never wake."
The voice pulled a gasp from me.
Virella stood leaning against the wall, arms loosely crossed. She wore a navy gown with golden accents, the bodice traced with delicate wires of gold, and jewels shimmered faintly at her throat and wrists.
How was this possible?
Was I back in Dornhold?
"A-Am I dreaming?" I asked, my voice hoarse.
Virella laughed lightly.
"An understandable question, given the circumstances," she said. "But no. You are very much awake. After my oafish brother botched his mission, he came to help me escape from Dornhold. And we have been home ever since."
"I didn't botch anything," came another voice.
Cavriel stepped through an inner doorway, stopping a few paces away with his arms crossed.
"I merely experienced... setbacks," he said.
I blinked, staring at him.
He looked nothing like the ragged prisoner I remembered. His dark blond hair was swept back, his shirt loose with a wide collar that bared part of his chest, and golden jewelry adorned him. Yet the black thorns still wound around his neck.
"What happened?" My voice trembled with questions. "Why am I here with you?"
"I told you I'd come for you when Thornmont reached the capital," he said. "I just didn't expect to find you unconscious in your tent."
The memory slammed into me — Cerys' hollow eyes, her cold smile, the bitter taste of wine.
My hands clenched at my sides. Only to feel empty.
"Where are my daggers?" I asked.
"I brought you here as I found you," Cavriel answered. "There weren't any daggers..."
What?
But I had Raincatcher with me...
What happened after Cerys drugged me?
"Where are we?" I asked.
"Where do you think?" Virella chuckled, nodding toward the balcony.
I turned and stepped out into the sunlight.
The sea breeze tangled in my hair as I gripped the golden railing, staring in wonder.
Below stretched a city of pale stone houses, stacked in tiers along the cape.
Bright fabrics fluttered from windows and markets, scattering color against the white walls.
As if the sight of the city wasn't answer enough, Driftwoode's banners, a white kraken on a sea of gold and blue, snapped proudly in the wind.
"It's beautiful..." I breathed.
A squawk suddenly tore through the air and my head snapped in the direction just as a black shadow flew upon me. Vyvy landed on the railing, cawing at me restlessly as if reprimanding me.
"Vyvy..." I breathed. "Yσυ α?? ????..."
I felt a little at ease seeing my friend.
Breathing in, I turned back to the twins.
"I'm happy you're both alright... But I need to leave the city. Pyree is on its way here and I must speak with the commander."
"Pyree is already here," Cavriel said with a frown. "They've been battling with Thornmont since morning."
My stomach dropped.
No...
It can't be...
"You don't have to worry," Cavriel assured me. "Sylvos' armies are busy outside and with his fleet burned, there won't be any naval assault. You're safe here in the city."
I turned on him sharply.
"He has griffons. You should be concerned."
Cavriel chuckled.
"We've built ballistae along the walls. They can try to come close."
My stomach turned wildly.
I needed to stop the fight before it escalated any further but with the war already begun, how could I even get close to the Pyreen army?
"I'm grateful you brought me here," I said. "But I have to leave the city."
"The city is safe," Virella assured me.
"I know..." I murmured. "But I have to stop the war."
Virella arched a brow.
"What do you mean by that?"
My mouth went dry. I hesitated, staring out at the peaceful city.
"I think... Sylvos can be saved," I whispered. "I think I can convince him to stop his conquest. He's... changed these days. I know it. I'm sure I can make him see reason."
Cavriel gave a sharp laugh, though there was no humor in it.
"Sylvos Thorne? Stop conquering? You're more na?ve than I thought."
"I'm not na?ve," I snapped, meeting his gaze. "I have to try..."
He stepped closer, towering over me.
"You'll get yourself killed. You've already committed treason beyond saving. You're a fool if you think Sylvos wouldn't execute you."
His words cut, but I stood my ground.
"For once," Virella said coolly, "I agree with my foolish brother."
My heart ached painfully. I turned away from them, gripping the railing until my knuckles whitened.
"I know... I know the risk. But I have to try. I know he's different."
Virella let out a long sigh, the sound almost pitying.
"There's no point dwelling on what cannot be changed. Besides, we've been invited to have breakfast with the king."
My stomach dropped.
"The king?" I asked.
Virella smiled.
"Thalrik Tidemere," she said. "King of Driftwoode and wieldier of Cascadea."
"Don't worry, he's harmless," Cavriel assured.
"Mm. It's our uncle you should be worried about," Virella added.
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The dining hall was unlike anything I had ever seen.
Carved entirely from white marble, it glimmered under the shafts of sunlight streaming through arched windows.
The air smelled of salt and something sweet, the breeze carrying in the cries of distant gulls.
Water features lined the walls — clear streams trickling down sculpted coral columns.
The sound of moving water mingled with the quiet clinking of tableware, soothing yet tense.
The table stretched long, adorned with coral centerpieces and shells that caught the light like scattered jewels.
A lavish spread of seafood filled every inch: platters of glistening oysters, smoked fish draped in herbs, and prawns steaming beside bowls of golden butter.
There was far too much for the handful of people seated here.
I sat between Virella and Cavriel, my hands folded tightly in my lap. They had dressed me in a delicate white gown, its embroidery catching the light like frost. It was beautiful. But every time I caught sight of its color, my stomach knotted. In Thornmont, white was reserved for the Empress alone.
Wearing it felt wrong.
Across from me, sat Lord Corvian, Virella and Cavriel's uncle.
His presence filled the hall as much as the crashing sea outside.
He was tall, his short curls a shade of dark blond that caught a golden sheen in the light.
Gold-plated armor hugged his broad frame, the edges carved in patterns like waves.
His sharp green eyes had been watching me since I arrived, assessing every breath.
Finally, he spoke.
"You have our gratitude, Princess of Drakfjord. For sending Pyree to our aid. No one else would have come."
His words felt heavy with more than thanks, but he turned his gaze to the head of the table before I could respond.
At the table's head sat a man who seemed like a ghost.
King Thalrik Tidemere.
His curls, perhaps blond once, were now dulled with gray, and his frame looked as though a strong wind might break him. He wore no jewels. No royal silks. Not even a crown. Only a plain gray garb that hung loose from his shoulders. In truth, he looked more beggar than king.
King Thalrik stared at the feast as though it were a burden.
The only true hint at his authority came from the sword by his side. Though even that, he treated more like a walking cane, leaning against it as though he wished to sleep.
But I felt it. Power, heavy and ancient, thrummed from the blade.
A cursed sword.
Its blade was wide, almost twice the width of Briarvex, rusted blue as if the sea itself had eaten at it.
The hilt, golden and intricate, glimmered dully under the hall's light.
Where Briarvex hummed like a living thing, this sword seemed to breathe slow and deep, as though it had slept for centuries but would wake in an instant if provoked.
The king let out a sigh, his voice lifeless, detached from the world.
"There is no need to fight. Thornmont will come... and Thornmont will go."
Lord Corvian's jaw tightened, his hand curling into a fist.
"We are only spared a siege because of the efforts of a foreign princess, cousin!" he said, his tone sharp. "If not for her, our gates would already be under the enemy's fire."
King Thalrik's dull blue eyes wandered toward the open balcony.
Beyond, the city sprawled across the cape, and the sea sparkled as if nothing was amiss.
Proud Driftwoode ships floated in neat rows, their golden sails billowing in the breeze.
The king's lips curled into something that might have been a smile if he tried just a bit more.
"It does not look like war," he said softly, almost to himself.
Corvian slammed his hand against the table, rattling the golden goblets.
"It will look like war soon enough if we do not gather the army! Already, most of Driftwoode has fallen under Thornmont's banners!"
The king's gaze did not move from the horizon.
"What rises may fall... and what falls may rise."
The words were spoken with such distant calm that a shiver crept along my spine.
Corvian rose to his feet, fury flashing in his green eyes.
"You must call the army!"
The air tensed.
And the king finally acknowledged his lord.
But just as his lips parted...
Warning bells rang throughout the city.
My heart stopped.
The ringing grew louder, frantic, echoing through the marble hall until it seemed to shake the very walls. All at once, chairs scraped back as everyone turned toward the towering windows facing the sea.
Cavriel was the first to move, his long strides carrying him to the balcony doors. The rest of us followed quickly, even Lord Corvian's armor clinking sharply with each step. Only the king remained seated, his dull eyes fixed on nothing.
We crowded onto the balcony, the salty wind whipping at our clothes and hair. My breath caught in my throat.
The horizon, once an endless shimmer of blue, was now dotted with an endless line of black ships. They moved like a single, unstoppable tide toward the cape.
"How—?" Cavriel's voice cracked the tense silence. He gripped the railing so tightly his knuckles whitened. "How is this possible? Thornmont's fleet burned to ash! How did he..."
No one answered. Even Lord Corvian's sharp tongue stilled. The only sound was the crash of the waves and the rising wail of the bells below.
Then, before any of us could think... Before a single word of strategy or command could form...
Light flared across the horizon.
A wall of fire erupted from the black fleet, hundreds of blazing projectiles arcing into the sky. The air trembled with their fury. And they fell like a storm of burning stars, all of them aimed at Driftwoode's unsuspecting ships anchored in the bay.
The war...
There was no escaping it now.
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