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“Sacrifices.” Syrena took a steadying breath. “Azarian believes that in order for us to regain our divinity, we need something to represent each god, along with ourselves.”

“Aye…” Esmyra nodded along, taking the words in. “An element of each god.”

“Yes. Their own essence is tied to the realms they rule. We need a physical piece of each—the earth Villaem commands, a drop of our sacred sea,” she paused as her eyes traced over Esmyra, “a spark of Irah’s flame.”

Esmyra’s jaw clenched at the mention of flame, her mind rushing back to the fire-wielder several floors away. “And what of Vydenne?”

“That’s the trickiest one.” Syrena tilted her head to the side. “Vydenne’s elven hold the power to manipulate minds, often resulting in showing enemies their greatest fears coming to life.”

Esmyra blinked and let out a low whistle. “Our fears? We need to offer a tangible fear?” She let out a cackle. “I fear nothing. ”

Syrena’s brow furrowed. “We all fear something, dearest sister.”

I already faced my greatest fear this morning .

A thousand years—she had been cautious with her heart for nearly a thousand years, and finally entrusted it to Draevyn, only for him to shatter it within hours.

Esmyra nodded, and Syrena continued, her voice lowering. “Next, we’ll need to spill our blood upon the remains—only it must be with the velsinyte dagger used to kill us to begin with. Without it, the curse’s binding threads can’t unravel. No other weapon will do.”

“What happens if this doesn’t work?” Esmyra wondered aloud. “And how does Azarian know all of this?”

Syrena offered her a smile. “It will work.”

Esmyra took a deep breath, pushing down the aggravation of her ignoring the question about Azarian. “Then what happens when we succeed?”

“We’ll reclaim our powers,” Syrena started. “What we possess now is but a sliver of what we held before. We’ll no longer be bound to this mortal shell. We’ll be gods once more—the best of them. Naerysa and Kaelypso will return to Rymelle.”

They sat in silence as she felt the magnitude of what lay ahead. But Esmyra knew Syrena’s mind was made up, and with it, so was hers.

Syrena reached across the Veil of Visions and gripped Esmyra’s hand. “Together, then?”

Esmyra’s gaze lingered on her sister before she squeezed her hand back and nodded. “Aye… Together .”

They descended the stairs from the tower in silence, her mind tangled with the weight of everything Syrena revealed.

The reality of their past had started to settle in, but one thought kept rising above the rest— Draevyn —and she loathed it. Esmyra absolutely hated that he was consuming her thoughts as she learned everything she’d longed for her entire life, knowing she would have to face him when she returned.

Every step she took toward the hall only seemed to quicken her pulse, her heart racing as they neared where she assumed he’d be waiting.

Why do I hope he’s waiting?

Esmyra told herself it was just so she could send her fist through his face—she had no interest in entertaining any other possible reason.

Anticipating his grovelling, she steeled her heart and mind, making it so any pleas for forgiveness from him would fall on deaf ears.

But as she and Syrena entered the great hall, a strange unease filled the air. Guards quickly approached her twin, leaning close to whisper in her ear. Her sister’s face flickered with something unreadable, her gaze moving between Esmyra and the guards, looking hesitant.

“What is it? What’s going on?” Esmyra asked, brows furrowing as she took a step closer to them.

Syrena shifted, giving her a look that seemed pitying. “I don’t know how to tell you this,” she said, placing a reassuring hand on her arm.

Esmyra’s chest tightened as she took a step out of Syrena’s reach. “What happened?” she pressed, her throat tightening.

The queen took a breath and hesitated, glancing at her hands as she picked at her thumb before meeting her eyes. “It’s Draevyn…he?—”

“What about him?!” Esmyra snapped, cutting her off. She couldn’t help the slight crack in her voice.

“He’s gone,” she answered, and time seemed to slow as the blood drained from Esmyra’s face.

“Draevyn was seen leaving Maerinys, headed for the caves. He must’ve discovered where they were and left without saying a word.

Azarian tried to go after him, but he caused a cave-in with his flames, blocking the tunnel you arrived from. ”

He’s gone.

Esmyra’s heart plummeted, every hopeful thought of him turning cold, vanishing in an instant. A distant numbness flooded her, and her face hardened, instinctively guarding the turmoil roiling inside her.

Gone. The word clung to her mind, clashing violently with everything she thought she’d known.

Draevyn was supposed to be here waiting for her to return. He was supposed to grovel at her feet and beg for forgiveness. He was supposed to lie and whisper sweet words as all men did for their treachery, but he couldn’t even give her that.

The Phoenix was a coward and ran .

He fled from the consequences he would face.

Draevyn ran from her .

It was just another fucking disappointment, sealing the final nail in her heart’s coffin.

He left through the caves, as they had planned to do together, abandoning her.

The heartache she’d been struggling to suppress twisted into something sharper, harsher. Transforming into a fierce wave of betrayal that wrapped around her heart and turned it to stone.

It was rage, pure and scalding, consuming the last dregs of hope she’d naively clung to and burning it to ash.

Wildfire indeed , his words echoed in her mind.

Draevyn Rowe had no fucking idea.

While he may be the one who wielded flame, she would be the one to take everything he loved and reduce it to nothing but cinders.

Syrena reached for her again, but Esmyra pulled away. “I’m so sorry, sister.”

Esmyra’s fingers curled into fists, talons biting into her palms as she willed her face steady.

The guards whispered to Syrena as they stepped away, casting wary glances at Esmyra that only fueled the growing heat in her veins. She felt their pity, their judgment, as if they knew something she didn’t.

Syrena’s gaze turned sympathetic, but Esmyra didn’t want sympathy. It wasn’t needed. Any softness that might’ve lingered with her memories of Draevyn had hardened, transforming into a burning resolve.

She didn’t care where he’d gone or why. He’d made his choice, and she’d let it serve as her final lesson.

Esmyra didn’t flinch as she met Syrena’s stare, didn’t let an ounce of her fury seep into her voice as she forced her lips into a hard, closed-lip smile. “Well, it appears he made his choice.”

And it wasn’t her.

Draevyn hadn’t chosen her.