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Z’leni exhales slowly, his eyes locked onto mine. He blinks twice then shakes his head.

“You think it’s that simple?”

Taking a deep breath I hold it and take a step forward. The Zmaj keeps his grip on my hand but doesn’t stop me.

“Let us go,” I say, speaking softly. “Please.”

He doesn’t move. Instead, his gaze softens just barely.

“You don’t understand what you’re walking into,” he says.

“Then tell me,” I say, frustration flaring.

A pause. Then his expression hardens.

“I can’t.”

Behind us, distant shouts. More guards. Time is slipping away and with it our one chance of escape.

Z’leni’s jaw flexes, indecision flickering across his face. His eyes meet mine, something raw and conflicted swirling behind them. The way he looks at me makes my breath catch. There’s no mistaking it. A deep, almost painful pull, as if something inside him is breaking apart and reforming at once. Then, slowly, too slowly, he reaches for the blade at his side.

My breath hitches. No. Not like this. A moment stretches between us, heavy with choices that can’t be undone. Then, Z’leni’s voice cuts through the tunnel— sharp, commanding.

The footsteps behind us quicken. Reinforcements. The tunnel fills with movement, Urr’ki warriors closing in. My stomach drops. We’re trapped. I turn to Z’leni, betrayal tightening my throat.

“Why?”

“Because it’s my duty,” he says, his expression darkening but his voice wavers.

And in his eyes, there’s a different answer. A truth he refuses to speak. Before I can say another word, rough hands seize my arms, yanking me back. The Zmaj roars in fury, thrashing, but he’s outnumbered. Forced down and subdued.

The fight is over before it begins. And Z’leni watches, his face carved from stone. As they drag me away, I realize he hadn’t wanted to stop me. But he had.

And that is far, far worse.

13

RANI

Iwatch the flames flicker, weighing the few remaining options left to me. In any other battle, I would have acted without hesitation. But I have never faced anything like this.

We lost the war with the Zmaj long before I was smart enough to admit it. If I had accepted it in the first place then the Shaman would never have been able to grab power. He manipulated me as much as he has all my people. I see it now, so clearly. That is the hard-earned value of time. The chance to reflect on every choice, every mistake.

My father, the former King, used to say that experience unexamined was experience wasted. I don’t think I ever understood that before my arrest by the Maulavi. They were my Maulavi — until the Shaman corrupted them from within.

I blink, leaving my eyes closed for a moment longer just to experience the brief moment of peace that comes with the darkness. I believe the humans and Zmaj are willing to help — but belief is not certainty. Rosalind is resolute and stern. I believe I understand her, but I must be cautious. Understanding is not trust. Trust takes action. Words, no matter how pretty or how much they line up with what I want to hear, do not change things.

The flames crackle and shift, casting wavering shadows on the walls of my dimly lit chamber. Their movement is hypnotic — a dance of destruction and renewal. Fitting, since my people stand on the edge of both.

I exhale slowly, clasping my hands together as I wrestle with the weight of my decisions. I should have seen the Shaman’s deception earlier. The signs had been there. The whispers, the fear in the eyes of those who once stood beside me. I had been too focused on maintaining the illusion of strength, of sovereignty, that there was hope for my people.

Blindly, I denied reality and only now do I see my failures. It was etched into every scarred wall and every haggard, battle-worn face of my people. The Urr’ki who remain are not the proud first born we once were. Now we are puppets, our strings jerked by the very man I once trusted most.

I tighten my grip until my nails bite into my palms. The Shaman’s influence must be severed, but I cannot do it alone. The Zmaj will not act unless they see a future in which they benefit. The humans are every bit as wary. Their leader, Rosalind, is cautious and pragmatic. She is my best hope and my greatest obstacle. I need to understand her better. I feel our goals are in alignment, but I need to be certain.

There is a soft knock at my door. My body tenses instinctively before I force myself to relax. It will be one of my guards. This morning they have been standing guard outside, giving me these private moments.

I carefully school my features into composure, I cannot let them see the doubts that plague me. They must see only the Queen. Cool, calm, collected and most of all in control. It doesn’t matter that I am anything but in control, as long as they think I am. That will suffice to give them the confidence to carry on, despite the incredible odds we face.