Chapter Fifty-Two #2
“You have to stay alive,” Elyssara snaps at Ronyn, her voice firm. “We use Tarrakai when it matters. Not for spectacle. We need to see how the Skyfire works.”
His gaze flicks to her, something unreadable passing through it, and then he nods once.
Calira clears her throat. “I know how it works,” she announces, her voice a steady, calm command.
All eyes snap to her, and they wait for her to speak.
“I created it.”
Ice climbs Elyssara’s spine, and her blood runs cold.
“What?” she breathes.
Calira does not falter. Does not hide from the admission. “I developed the alchemy. Designed it for use against the enemy. We knew they were coming.”
Calira steps forward then, her presence cutting cleanly through the tension.
“Nyrielle’s Shades took the plans, replicated them, sold them to Maireth. We had hoped the design was too complex for them to figure out, but…” she trails off, because the rest is obvious.
Teddy’s fist collides with the table. Ronyn walks away, dragging a desperate hand down his face.
Thalmyr exhales a pained sigh. “We had to do something. Had to find another way to defeat them. We only had twelve more months until the dragons were extinct… The Barrier would’ve fallen, and we’d be left defenseless, save for the army.
And we all know how that would’ve turned out. It was a calculated risk.”
“And now we’re on the other side of that risk,” Elyssara says, trying not to lose herself to the panic.
“I have a plan,” Calira proposes, cutting through the fear. Her gaze flicks between Elyssara and Teddy.
He nods.
So does she.
They can use all the fucking help they can get.
Calira sucks in a steadying breath. “The Venomshades will split into smaller units, take the first strike from within the slums,” she says.
“We don’t engage in open combat. We use alchemy—fatal gases, throwing pins infused with Shadelock, paralyzing poisons we can mist into the air.
We move through them. Silent kills. Disruption. ”
Ronyn scoffs. “Yeah we’ve been on the receiving end of those paralyzing mists. Assuming the enemy stole that too? Can’t say it was a good time.”
Seren elbows him in the ribs.
“We’ve been preparing for this time for years,” Calira comments, as if that will be enough to win.
“And the next wave? Runewrights?” Teddy asks, already clocking the strategy Calira has in mind.
“They’ll need contact,” Calira replies, cold and efficient. “Close range. We use the dark and the disruption caused by the Venomshades. Use the confusion. The unit knows their runes—fatal, or at the very least, unconscious. No prolonged engagement.”
“Bloodbonds?” Jax adds.
Calira’s expression doesn’t change. “We hold them back.”
“For when everything turns to shit,” Ronyn mutters.
“Yes,” Calira says simply.
The way a hand presses against a wound, buying time even when it cannot stop the bleeding.
“And the Aetherstrides sense the enemy and pick them off before they can penetrate deeper into the city’s heart,” Teddy says, and Calira nods.
“Exactly.”
The two of them share a nod, like this fragile strategy is the only thread stitching this entire thing together.
Elyssara’s gaze shifts to Vren. “What do the Melders bring to the table if they can’t take to the skies?”
She doesn’t mean it as an insult, but she needs them to be useful.
Vren scratches his head. “Blood for the antidote,” he admits sadly. “But in the absence of that, we can carry out tasks at your behest, Your Highness.”
Your Highness.
The words land casually, as if he’s said them offhand. But they cut through her like a blade. Elyssara is Queen of Dravara and for the first time, it settles in her chest like a destiny enacted.
But Rubi interrupts her thoughts. “We need Melders in The Underbelly right away,” she says, hair tied back in a practiced braid, eyes sharp from sobriety and purpose.
Saana nods, forcing herself to be steady despite the fear etched all over her face. “Revryn has evacuated the people to The Underbelly. The streets are empty. We’re ready.”
One piece of the board secured.
Seren shifts beside her, quieter than usual, her eyes distant for a moment before sharpening again.
“When it turns,” she says, “when the Skyfire starts, I’ll take to the skies on Tarrakai.”
Elyssara looks at her. “Seren—”
“This is what my people do. We ride dragons. It’s how it’s meant to be.” She lets the words hang there for a heartbeat. Then adds, “I won’t stay grounded while they tear through us.” Resolve threads through her voice. “If Tarrakai is the difference, then I’ll be part of that difference.”
For a moment, Elyssara sees it.
Not the girl she met. The one forged in everything that has come since. Elyssara holds her gaze, then nods once.
A beat passes.
“That’s not the only advantage you have,” Thalmyr announces.
All eyes flick to him, his voice somehow drawing attention without effort.
“You have two Lightbornes.”
His eyes fix on Elyssara, pinning her in place like a butterfly behind glass.
“I will fight. I will do what I can to keep Caeloria from breaching the castle walls. And when Nyrielle arrives… when she starts to unleash her stolen power…” he trails off.
“I will kill you,” Elyssara finishes.
“And I will funnel his power to you,” Daphinia adds.
The weight of everything lands like a warhammer, brutal and unmistakable.
Ronyn throws a hand to his hip, and the other through his hair. “So we have a bit going on then?”
Then Jax asks the one question Elyssara was desperate to avoid. The one she cannot bear to face.
“And Kael? What’s the plan?”
Fuck.
Elyssara can’t feel him. Hasn’t for days. No sign he’s still alive. No sign he’s still in there. She can’t feel his absence either, though. Not dead, then. Just… caught somewhere between dead and alive.
“The plan is…” she begins, though she can’t find a way to end it.
“We reach him,” Teddy steps in, voice unwavering and clear.
Thank the fucking Stars for Teddy.
Elyssara lets out a sigh.
“They’ll use him against you,” Thalmyr says, not cruelly, just stating a fact.
She knows it. Gods, she knows.
Elyssara throws out a prayer to every god, the Stars themselves, and to Princess Marin of Caeloria to save the man she loves.
“Teddy knows what to do,” Elyssara says, and everyone understands exactly what she means.
They know this might be the last night Kael Thorne and Elyssara Dawnmere ever spend in this godsforsaken world. But no one acknowledges it. Elyssara is not afraid of dying—she is afraid of a world that lives with Nyrielle or Maireth at the helm.
Teddy closes his eyes as if making peace with the execution of his king. His brother. He lifts his chin slightly, like he’s refusing to let it stop him from doing what must be done. Like he’s already grieving a man who hasn’t died yet. Like he already hates himself for ending him.
Elyssara straightens.
This is it.
No more adjustments. No more theory.
“We hold the city,” she says, her voice steady, cutting through the room. “We let them come to us. We break their formation before they realize they’ve walked into ours. We protect The Underbelly at all costs.”
Her gaze moves across each of them.
One by one.
“This is my fucking Kingdom,” she says. “And no one takes what is mine. Not again.”
A low tremor runs through the floor like it’s punctuating her claim, so faint it almost goes unnoticed.
Then it comes again.
Stronger.
Dust shifts from the beams overhead.
Somewhere in the distance, something cracks.
No one speaks.
They don’t need to.
Elyssara exhales slowly, her hand flattening against the map one last time before she straightens fully.
“They’re here.”
And the war begins.