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Azura’s eyes dropped. “He told us such horrible things. Too horrible to ever be considered, and yet… I couldn’t shake them. We adjourned that day, and I spent the next year in deep meditation. And when I could no longer deny the truth of his words, I called my mages to me, hoping that they could see something that I could not.”

“I’m assuming you’re referring to the final meeting of the Time Guild?” Skye waited for Azura to nod before continuing, “At the time, no one could figure out why you recalled your mages. They were serving as advisors and teachers, politicians and ambassadors. You threatened fey relations with multiple gate worlds by forcing an assembly.”

“We kept that information to ourselves,” Azura said. “We kept a lot of things to ourselves as we began picking apart the timelines, using our collective power to make a map of every possible future. Secrecy was vital to our endeavor—even the smallest change in a person’s actions can have a cascading effect on future events. In the end, however, all we managed to prove was the truth of this harbinger’s message.

“Which only left one question: what to do about it?”

Azura frowned, flicking her skirts behind her as she began to idly pace. “I called an emergency session of the Council, and we debated. We went back and forth, analyzing every variable. And after weeks of arguing, we split. Auberin and Nissa went one way—they formed their Dawn Court and entrenched themselves on the mainland and would eventually use my actions to seize more power than they were due.”

Taly blanched. “The Sanctorum,” she breathed, and Skye placed a hand on her shoulder.

Azura only nodded. “As for Zion, Heleus, and Atlas,” she continued. The remaining three members of the Council. “They moved their courts to the mortal realm, hoping to escape the devastation that was to come. Perhaps they evenplanned to learn the ways of that world, a way to survive should we ever need it. I’m not sure. We stopped talking to each other after that meeting—stopped trusting each other. Which is, I think, exactly what that man wanted. To divide us.”

“What were the Council Lords in the mortal realm running from?” Taly asked, grateful for the hand that was still resting on her shoulder. The warm, steady reassurance. “The shades?”

Azura shook her head. “My dear, the attack on Tempris is only the beginning. The opening act in a war that’s been building for longer than even I am able to comprehend.”

“You still haven’t explained why you closed the gates,” Skye pointed out. His tone was steady, but even he looked a bit pale at this point. “You claim that you found out war is coming, but you didn’t try to solidify power or escape—you shut down the gates. You killed the people you were sworn to protect.Why?”

Instead of answering him directly, Azura found Taly’s stare and held it. “Everyone else is always dealing in possibilities,” she said softly. “Butwecan see when those possibilities fall away. The others—my fellow Council members… they didn’t want to believe in a future without hope. They didn’t believe me when I said—when every time mage with the Sight and even those without—confirmed the inevitability that was slowly creeping towards us.

“No matter how many times I altered the variables, no matter how many scenarios I ran, I saw only two viable futures. In the first: blood and death swept the land, wiping out every people and race, regardless of creed or religion. Lifecontinued, but not in the way that we knew it. Not in a way we would even want it.

“It was such a terrible future,” Azura breathed. The sadness in those words made Taly’s heart clench. “Not for the horrors that awaited us, but the certainty of our demise. I spent months, maybe years, in that timeline, trying to learn its intricacies, trying to find a way forward should the worst come to pass, and sometimes… sometimes, I think I can still hear the screaming, still feel the sting of the whips, and the cold bite of the chains. I’ll turn a corner, and all I’ll see is smoke and blood and…” Azura’s voice trailed off, eyes wide with some distant terror.

“Az,” Leto said kindly. Any other time, Taly would’ve marveled at the informality.

Azura drew in a soft gasp, seeming to come back to herself.

“In the second future,” she continued hoarsely, the hand she pressed to her chest trembling, “I saw a possibility. A whisper of a chance. There were no guarantees, of course. There never are. But that’s what I chose. It’s what I and every soul haunting the corridors of this palace chose.Life—no matter the cost.Survival—if not for ourselves, then for those that might come after. The world thinks me mad. That my actions were unprompted and unprovoked. That I acted alone. But that is a lie. A calculatedliespread by those that know better.

“We were at war, and I did what was necessary.” Azura’s throat bobbed as she sank down into a nearby chair, cradling her face in her hand. “I gave us a chance. In a war we were never meant to win, I bought time. And now—now that time is up.”

Taly couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.

War.

They were at war with something worse than shades. Something that made the sudden and abrupt deaths of millions of people worth the sacrifice.

Something that would drive them to extinction. That’s what Azura had just described.

And what did this have to do with her? With why Azura had trained her, brought her here—

Skye slipped his hand into hers, and Taly jumped. He’d been so quiet, she’d almost forgotten he was there.

Skye cleared his throat. “Alright,” he said, and damn him. Damn him for still looking so calm. “You felt the destruction of the gates was for some greater good. However, what does this have to do with Taly? What role could she possibly play in a war that’s been silently raging longer than anyone in this room has even been alive?”

The flicker of devastation that flashed across Azura’s face was like a punch to the gut. “That is information you neither need nor want.”

“Tell us anyway,” Skye demanded.

Azura shook her head. “I am done answering questions for today. I have already given you more than you need.”

Skye turned Taly to face him, and it was only then that she realized she’d started shaking. He took her face in his hands, forcing her eyes to his, and… there was so much love there. More affection than she knew she deserved. “You’re not alone,” he said with such quiet ferocity. “Whatever happens, you won’t be alone. We go together. Even into this.”

Taly gave a jerky nod. “Until the end,” was all she managed.

“The gate is ready.” Azura looked to the shimmering portal that spanned the back wall. A dark room lay beyond, rippling at the edges. “And as I promised, Kato is safe and sound. Although, perhaps a little frazzled, so you might go easy on him.”