Chapter Three #2
Rubi snorts, cutting through Kael’s thoughts. “Don’t forget we have to deal with the threvenar poisoning. You know, the whole ‘no one knows Elyssara and her family exists’ thing? I still have my threvenar experiments awaiting me in Nymeris.”
Fuck.
Threvenar.
Make that four problems.
He stacks them, one after the other. Like they won’t crush him if he keeps moving.
“Then we leave for Nymeris immediately,” Elyssara commands clearly, no question in her tone. The Heart of Zerynthia. The soul of Dravara.
But before Kael can agree, Elyssara pushes from her chair, the legs scraping harshly across the polished onyx floor. Her head snaps to the windows. She can hear something.
Confusion settles across the room.
She prowls to the window in the way of a warrior—smooth, focused, primed. She tilts her head at a curious angle—listening, waiting.
Her hands drift to the sill, confusion etched into her every movement.
Kael meets Seren’s gaze, but she only stares quizzically back at him.
“Does anyone else hear that?” she breathes, words almost indistinguishable.
The council members swap glances.
“And you all think I have too much to drink,” Rubi scoffs, downing more ale laced with brask.
Teddy huffs. “For fuck’s sake,” he mutters under his breath.
But Kael follows Elyssara. He presses his hand to the small of her back in assurance. “El? What do you hear?”
Kael snaps his gaze back to Seren.
Surely she can hear this, too.
Seren only shakes her head, brows pinched.
“Horses,” Elyssara murmurs. “So many of them. They feel… so close. But I can’t see…” she trails off.
Kael swings his gaze to Teddy, a knowing expression already on his face.
“The Great Calling,” Teddy whispers in awe.
The Great fucking Calling.
Elyssara doesn’t move, eyes still searching for the herd of horses she’ll never find.
Because they’re not there.
“The Great what?” she asks, voice still distant.
Kael and Teddy share a knowing look.
“The Great Calling,” Teddy repeats. “I thought… I thought it was a myth. A tale told to children…” he trails off.
Elyssara drags her gaze from the horizon, spinning slowly. Her eyes lock on Kael’s.
“What does it mean?”
He huffs a small laugh. Of course the horses have come for her.
He drags his gaze across the group and clears his throat.
“In old Zerynthian lore, it is believed that when a person is on the path of their Great Calling, they will hear the thunder of hooves—a creation made by Rualia, Goddess of Change and Purpose. She created a herd of wild mares on the continent of Taaruven that call to those who have crossed a threshold,” he explains, awe still thrumming through his veins.
“A threshold?” Seren asks, leaning in a little closer, eyes alight with curiosity.
Teddy nods, taking a step forward.
“When one with a world-altering fate steps onto the path of their Great Calling, the horses make themselves known. The sound of hooves, El… it is an invitation to claim one. To bond with a Taaruvi mare. They become one with their bonded, responding to their every whim and intention, helping them live out the full power of their path,” he says, awe-struck.
A sound heard not with the ears—but felt somewhere deeper.
Elyssara doesn’t respond, only stares blankly ahead.
So Ronyn takes the opportunity. He raises a finger, a puzzled look quirking a brow.
“How does one go about getting themselves their own Taaruvi mare? Wouldn’t mind one if they’re on offer,” he says flippantly, shrugging a shoulder.
The group shakes their heads, stifling a laugh.
Jax groans. “They’re not ‘on offer’, you moron. They call to you when your fate is world-altering and you’re on the path toward it. Not just because you’re a sarcastic prick who wants one,” she scoffs.
“And I don’t believe sleeping with the maids, pick-pocketing, or embarrassing everyone at Poker is considered a Great Calling, Ronie. As sad as I am to admit it,” Rubi drawls, throwing back a swig of brask.
Ronyn scoffs indignantly, feigning offense at the insult. “I’ve worked hard at those skills. Who are you to question the great Goddess of Change and Purpose? She might have watched me at work and decided she was a patron of the arts,” he jests.
He flashes a dazzling smile. The kind of grin he wears when he’s talking absolute bullshit. “I don’t mean to embarrass the other lads, but I have heard some lovers refer to my love-making as a masterpiece.”
That earns a laugh.
Kael relishes the sound. Normality. Levity. Joy.
Rubi barks a laugh, slapping the table. “By all means, don’t let the truth get in the way of your opinions, Ronie.”
But Ronyn’s already smiling.
He’s doing what he always does—brings joy into every room. Allows people to remember what came before all this. What might exist after it.
“Aren’t you due back in Nymeris already, Rubes?” he teases, biting his tongue between his teeth.
Another laugh escapes her. “And miss all this? Never.” She takes another long pull on her flask.
The room fills with laughter, but laughter soon settles into silence.
Teddy clears his throat.
“Are you going to claim your Taaruvi mare, El?” he asks sternly. Like he’s coming to terms with a myth made flesh.
She turns her gaze to the window again, following the sound of the hooves that call to her. Her hands lift, pressing into the frame of the window, as if she can reach out to the sound.
“It can wait. Dravara is all that matters right now. It might be a call from fate, but fate doesn’t determine what I do… what I become—I do.” Her voice is certain, clear.
As if denying it might make it lose its hold on her.
But Kael knows the inside of war—what it takes, what it costs, what it makes a person—and he knows she’ll need every advantage she can get.
“These horses, my love, they are said to help you, protect you, serve your will. They are devoted to your Great Calling in the same way you are,” Kael explains, softening his voice.
She keeps her gaze fixed into the distance, eyes unfocused. “I refused to let fate decide my future at the start of all of this, Kael. I’ll refuse it until my will is stronger than any story the Stars write for me.”
His voice softens further, overriding the sinister darkness that seeks to leash him, “Then it’s settled: we go when you’re ready, my love.”
She nods, but Kael feels Teddy’s eyes on him like a brand.
He looks to his General, and understanding passes between them. Not words—a knowing. A recognition that all is not well. That Kael is carrying something he refuses to name.
Teddy takes a step forward, closing the gap between them.
“Brother—”
But Kael cuts him off.
“One more thing before we depart,” Kael announces.
All eyes turn to him, settling there like a weight he can barely hold.
He clenches his jaw, molars grinding together with a force that might crack them.
He drags his gaze across the room—at all the people who gave so much, lost so much, risked so much to save Zerynthia, his throne, his sister—and resolve takes root in his bones.
“Nalya is gone.”
Time pauses.
Breaths snag in throats.
Teddy’s head drops back, eyes closed against the news.
But the world does not tremble.
It simply continues.
“She returned herself to the Stars to claim the peace life never gave her.” His voice breaks, thick and raw and hollow all at the same time.
Silence fills the room.
Elyssara reaches for him through the tether, but he shuts her out. Her hand finds his instead, her fingers threading through his, gripping him, holding him here.
Rubi pushes back in her chair, scraping wooden legs across obsidian floors.
She stills.
For a heartbeat, Kael thinks she might cry. Instead, her arm lashes out in a wild swipe, dragging the tankards, decanters, quills, and ink pots across the table until they meet the wall in a clash of clanging metal and shattered glass.
Rubi falls to her knees, and a guttural cry tears from her throat, half-howl, half-lament.
Teddy runs to her, pulling her into his arms the same way Kael had just done to Nalya.
He cradles her the way a brother holds his baby sister during a storm. Tender, protective, wishing he could take her pain.
“I failed,” Rubi sobs. “I failed her, too.”
Teddy shakes his head. “No,” he soothes. “No.”
Elyssara burrows her face into Kael’s chest. “I’m sorry, my love. I’m sorry.”
Jax curses, slamming her fist against the table.
Ronyn drags a hand through his hair.
“This world is so fucking cruel!” he screams, the words ripping free from his mouth like they left without conscious thought. “It takes everything from us. Everything good.”
Kael feels the ache there. Feels every pained experience, every broken memory, every loved one lost.
But Ronyn’s wrong. The world does not just take from us.
It teaches us how to live without what it took.
Elyssara untangles from Kael’s arms, lifts her chin like a queen in the making, and says the only thing left to say.
“Then we remake it.”
The room fills with emboldened agreement. The kind of blind willingness that only comes from people who’ve lost everything, and would do anything to protect the only thing that’s left: each other.
Kael takes in his war council. The easy friendships they’ve developed. The unspoken but undeniable bonds between this group of broken and fallen warriors.
And his chest seizes.
Because this loyalty, this kinship, is both their greatest strength and the easiest thing for an enemy to exploit.
So Kael cuts through the unity like a blade through silk.
“We leave now,” he commands, direct and unwavering. “Gellesk and his rebels are guarding Kryntar, and Queen Ilyra’s Shade will let them know we’re coming. We’re ready. We need to move on Dravara before Thalmyr and Maireth have a chance to recover.”
But Seren’s already moving.
Her hands weave Threads of magic, drawing power from the living. Sparks crackle off the ethereal Threads in the morning air.
“Let’s go,” she directs, leather straps pulled taut around her forehead like a born warrior, eyes bright gold and unflinching.
And the Gateway swallows them whole.