Chapter 104 – Dain
DAIN
On the far side of the battlefield, relief rippled through our ranks.
I’d lost sight of Azaria in the chaos, through smoke and screaming, through magic flaring in bursts of color—but my chest didn’t hurt. That was all that mattered. She was still alive.
Kael and Reyna reached me first, both spattered in blood and mud. We’d been channeling magic into the wardstones between waves of Dravareth attacks, barely holding them back. We stared at the massive, shimmering ward.
Beyond it, the cloud seethed. I couldn’t look at it without my stomach dropping.
I’d seen it before—not this exact cloud, but its twin.
The vision in Solmarin. The darkness swallowing everything; the rot spreading like a living thing, and that smell—old blood, decay, something evil and wrong.
I’d told myself that visions weren’t certainties.
That seeing a thing didn’t make it inevitable.
Standing here now, watching that black mass pulse and grow, I wasn’t sure I believed that anymore.
Lirael caught up, panting, her gaze flicking between the roiling cloud and the row of exhausted mages.
“Will that hold?” Lirael asked, voice tight.
“I have no idea,” I admitted. None of us did.
Three hours. That’s how long we’d been fighting: channeling magic, fending off attacks, watching the Boom grow closer. The ward had finally stabilized about ten minutes ago. Now we could breathe.
Shouts rose further down the line—confusion, people clustering together. We moved toward the sound.
“Someone’s trapped!” a voice called.
I grabbed the young mage by the shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“After the ward went up, someone got caught inside.” His face was pale, eyes wide.
“Who?” Reyna demanded.
“We don’t know. They’re on the far side—no one can get close enough to see.”
“Reckless fool, whoever it is,” Reyna muttered, shaking her head.
“We need to find the others,” I said, already moving along the ward line.
As we went, we gathered Elias and Lyra, then Thorne, Zeph, and Quin.
Kalias joined us too—human now, silver hair matted with blood and ash.
Something was off about him. His jaw was clenched too tight, his eyes distant, like he was listening to something the rest of us couldn’t hear.
His hand kept pressing against his chest, over the pack bond.
All of us were filthy and drained, but it didn’t matter. The ward was holding. For now.
We found Rylen and Veshar arguing with a cluster of officers.
“Where’s your captain?” Rylen asked, voice clipped and impatient.
“She was fighting off the Dravareth scum with Tallis,” Veshar answered. He jerked his chin toward the shimmering ward. “How’s that wall doing?”
Rylen stepped closer, his hand hovering inches from the spell’s surface. “It’s solid. The spell’s fully activated.”
“Will it hold that… thing?” Veshar asked, eyes on the writhing cloud, which edged closer every minute.
Rylen replied, “It’s hard to tell. For now, get your men back to the wardstones. Any mage with power left must keep the magic flowing.” He glanced at the writhing dark cloud. “The Abyssal Boom is growing. We need every scrap of magic we can muster.”
We were still talking when voices rose around us: “…Captain Sylvenhart… the ward…”
We froze.
“Did you hear that?” Zeph asked, voice thin.
“Yes,” I gritted out, dread coiling in my chest.
More voices echoed, all repeating the same name—Captain Sylvenhart. Captain Sylvenhart.
Veshar spun, spotted the nearest palace officer, and grabbed him by the collar. “What’s this about Captain Sylvenhart?” he barked. “Spit it out.”
The officer paled, stammering. “It’s Captain Sylvenhart, sir. The person trapped behind the ward—it’s her.”
Rylen stiffened. “What? How is that possible?” he demanded.
The officer swallowed. “Sh-she fought with Lieutenant Cordan, defending the mages. She ordered the retreat right before the ward was completed. She pushed Lieutenant Cordan to safety, but trapped herself in the process. She’s fighting off the horde on her own as we speak.”
Veshar’s fist clenched, then he released the man. “Fuck.”
The vision slammed back into me—whole, vivid, merciless. The cloud. The rot. The stench of old blood choking the air, everything consumed. I’d seen this. I’d seen exactly this. And I’d done nothing to stop it.
Panic spread through the squad. My breath caught.
Quin staggered, grabbing my arm. “No—no, it can’t be her—she promised, she?—“
His magic flared; a faint shimmer of red appeared in the air around him, straining toward something it couldn’t reach.
Kael cursed. Reyna’s hands flew to her mouth.
Kalias went rigid. His eyes widened, then squeezed shut. “No,” he breathed. He’d known. The bond had been telling him for minutes—the distance, the pulling away, the intent she’d hidden from all of us. He’d known, and he hadn’t been able to stop it either.
The bond in my chest flared. It wasn’t pain. It was a separation. I felt her presence pulling away, unreachable behind the ward’s magic. She was alive, but I couldn’t reach her.
The world narrowed. All I could hear was my own heartbeat and that name—Azaria—echoing through the chaos. And beneath it, the quiet, terrible certainty that the vision hadn’t been a warning.
It had been a promise.
Darann appeared from the crowd of mages, face dark with fury. “I heard. Where is she?”
“Hurry!” Rylen ordered.
We ran.