Chapter 14 Kieran
KIERAN
A Dominion had come to Alfemir, our worst fears realized, and its arrival carried a single promise: something unstoppable was coming. The first triad.
After the confrontation, we’d spent hours on the castle grounds, steadying shaken citizens and keeping order where panic threatened to rise.
I spoke with allied Archangels and gave brief orders where I could—anything to keep my hands busy as I tried to sort through my own thoughts on what the hell had just happened.
Only when the last ray of sunlight disappeared did I find myself at Archangel Astor’s medical bedside, watching the healers work on her arm and ribs as she insisted she was completely fine.
By then, the adrenaline that had carried me through the previous few hours had burned out, leaving only the weight of fatigue in its place. Tomorrow, we’d have to decide what came next—how to prepare for the inevitable. Whatever the upper triads sent for us, it would fall on me to meet it first.
We slipped quietly into the house, the door closing behind us with a soft thud.
I toed off my boots, flexing my sore ankles as the night’s chill followed me in.
I shrugged out of the jacket Gabe had wrapped me in and made my way upstairs on unsteady legs.
Below, the fridge opened, followed by the faint clatter of dishes—Ronan rummaging for something to make for dinner.
I needed a shower. A distraction. Anything.
As hot water hit, I could only think one thing: A Dominion.
They were every bit as terrifying as I’d imagined, but that hadn’t stopped me from surging forward the moment he hurt one of mine.
Tears stung behind my eyes—not from terror, but from release—as the memory replayed: the rush of wings, the sudden unity as so many rose into the sky beside me, refusing to back down.
When I finally left the shower the night before, exhaustion had dulled everything to a haze.
I made it downstairs long enough to eat half a bowl of rice and vegetables that Ronan had thrown together before sleep caught up to me.
I must have drifted off between him and Steele, because when I woke the next morning, I was in my bed, limbs sprawled, body heavy but rested for the day ahead.
Considering the meeting this morning, that was a mercy. Or maybe it was just the coffee.
The wind cut sharp across my wings as we descended toward the castle, the sky brushed in a hazy gold from the late-morning sun.
The air smelled of morning dew, the city below stirring back to life.
My heart eased when I saw no Dominion waiting above the castle’s battlements, only soldiers drilling in the courtyards and the quiet shimmer of light on stone.
We landed in the courtyard outside the castle’s entrance, the air alive with motion despite the early hour.
Messengers darted through the gates, squadrons hauled crates of supplies around the back, and the flash of dark uniforms told me Niz’s parents had already arrived with their escort.
They’d arrived quickly, despite the warning only coming the night before.
I took a slow breath, grounding myself before moving forward. Dozens of eyes followed our every step. I knew I needed to project the confidence they were searching for—even if I had to build it from my own fears and doubt about the future.
Soldiers stepped forward as we approached, pushing open the heavy doors as the warm corridor air met us. My gaze stayed fixed ahead, toward the council chamber where today’s meeting would be held. Steele and Gabe flanked me, the others close behind.
Our footsteps echoed against the high stone walls, measured and in sync. Somewhere in that rhythm, after everything we’d fought through, I felt the bond between us—unspoken, steady, fierce.
As we reached the heart of the castle, the same chamber we’d used before waited for us, though it looked different now.
Chairs ringed the long walnut table that had been moved to the center.
Maps and scrolls lay scattered across its surface, their corners pinned with stones against the cool breeze drifting through an open window.
I slowed as we entered, scanning the room—taking stock of everyone gathered.
Amelia sat near the middle, her expression drawn as she murmured something to Noah.
Across from them, Niz’s parents spoke in low tones with Archangels Astor and Mithrie.
Astor’s injured arm remained bound across her chest, but her posture was straight, unyielding.
When the doors closed behind us, the sound echoed through the chamber, and every head turned our way.
“Niz—Creator above.” His father stood a moment later, the chair legs scraping softly against the floor. The composure of a king faltered as his gaze swept over his son, then the rest of us. “Son, Kieran—all of you. I’m relieved you’re alive.”
“A Dominion,” Niz’s mother breathed, her voice catching halfway between disbelief and fear. She rose to her feet, her hands tightening around the edge of the table as her brow dipped in agitation. “Here, in Alfemir? That’s almost impossible to believe.”
Niz moved closer, as he offered them both looks of understanding. “Yet very real,” he said quietly to his mother before turning to his father. “And our survival is thanks to the angels who stood beside us—in defiance of the triad.”
I could tell his words were a deliberate reminder for his parents of the new order taking shape around this table. This was no longer about kingdoms or past bloodshed—it was about survival. We were one team now, and while I appreciated why he said it, I didn’t doubt their commitment for a second.
“Please, all of you, come sit,” Archangel Astor said, motioning with her uninjured arm. The authority in her tone carried even through the weariness painting her face.
We took our seats, and my gaze swept across the table. Beside the scattered maps sat stacks of Noah’s tomes, their pages marked and smudged with ink—valuable knowledge, but unfortunately, none of it held the answer to the problem staring back at us.
Noah leaned forward, his voice low but weighted with resolve. “We need to talk about what happens next—about the triad, and whether we’re truly prepared to face them.”
The words hit like a physical weight, because the obvious truth sat between us anyway, sharp and undeniable. We weren’t ready.
I shifted in my seat and stated the obvious. “If it takes that many of us to stand against one Dominion. How are we supposed to face more?”
Not to mention that our fiercest Archangel had been thrown aside as if she was nothing.
The realization of our reality made my chest tighten as I sat beside my men, bone-tired and overwhelmed.
Despite that, I forced myself to straighten, to look like the leader everyone in this room expected, even when the fatigue in my bones begged me to rest. It didn’t matter how much sleep I’d gotten the night before; a deeper depletion sunk through all of us.
First Alfemir. Now this. How much more could we give before something finally broke? Let alone, the prophecy’s weight that pressed down on me like a constant pulse.
“If we’re going to fight the triad, we need to bring the Rebellion back here—to where it began,” Amelia announced, seeming determined to craft a path forward.
Beside me, Steele went still. I knew he agreed with her, but I also knew what that silence meant. He was protective of the Rebellion, of every soul in it, and the thought of putting them in the Dominion’s path was enough to tighten his entire frame.
His jaw flexed once, and I could almost feel the argument on his tongue. I reached beneath the table, brushing his knee in quiet understanding. When his hand slid over mine and gave a firm squeeze, I met his gaze with a small, knowing look—a silent promise that I understood.
“But…” Amelia’s gaze moved across the others gathered.
“They’ll hesitate. They were exiled from Alfemir—either forced to fall themselves or raised by families who had been driven from their homes.
Convincing them to return here won’t be easy.
Convincing them to fight a war against the triad, not just Alfemir, may be even harder. ”
Steele straightened beside me, his voice hardening. “They’ll need something to fight for again, something that proves this isn’t a suicide mission.”
“They’ll need hope,” Amelia said quietly. “Hope for what Alfemir could become to them—for the chance to be welcomed back and to find a place within its new order.”
Hope.
The word scraped through me like grit in an open wound and I closed my eyes for a beat, tasting the fear it brought.
My mind flashed with images of what the upper triads could do to Alfemir: the skyline on fire, angel wings cutting through smoke, the stench of burning flesh within the heat of flame.
And yet, beneath the dread of what if, I clung to the truth.
We didn’t have a choice. We had to fight them, just as we had to save the stars. It wasn’t optional, it simply was.
Before I could speak, Mithrie leaned forward. “If they hesitate, remind them what’s at stake,” she explained softly. “The upper triads won’t stop with Alfemir. They know the fallen have been here. They’ll hunt them next. This war ends within these walls, or it won’t end at all.”
Her words cracked through the tension and drew slow, grim nods around the table. I felt the room tighten with determination, attention snapping back to the logistics that would make hope possible.
“As we pledged before, our warriors will fly beside you in the sky,” Niz’s mother said, voice resolute and commanding. “Those who cannot fight—the merchants, the young, the scholars, and others like them—will remain in the mountains under guard.”