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I watch Elara closely as the fire in her gaze sharpens into something more intense than anger, resolve. It’s a quiet, unyielding thing I’ve seen only in those who have confronted despair and chosen to fight instead of fall. For a moment, I feel almost proud.

Good. The Council has no chance against that fire, not if I fan it into something they cannot control.

I shift my attention to the crimson tome in my hands, its edges catching faint streaks of moonlight.

Its weight is more than physical; this book holds the proof I’ve spent years hunting, the ugly truth about the Council’s treachery laid bare.

I always knew they were ruthless. What I didn’t expect was this: a siphon disguised as a bond, a death sentence wrapped in prophecy. It was worse than I had imagined.

“They’ll pay for this,” Elara says, her voice low and sharp. “But we need more than this tome. It’s a start, but we must gather evidence, enough evidence to tear their foundation

apart.”

She’s already thinking ahead. Good. She understands the

scope of what we’re stepping into, and instead of flinching, she embraces it .

“We will,” I promise, my voice unwavering. “This changes everything. Their power is founded on fear and secrets. If we expose those secrets, their grip will shatter.”

I stand and offer her my hand. She hesitates for only a moment before taking it, her grip firm despite the tremor in her fingers.

I pull her up and instinctively scan the grove.

The torchlight flickering beyond the trees remains distant, but I know better than to trust time.

We need to move before the palace locks down.

“We can’t stay here,” I say, letting her hand go. “The grounds will be crawling with guards before long. We need distance.”

Elara glances toward the distant palace walls. “Where do we go?”

I already have the answer. My mind has been mapping routes and options since we slipped into the archives. “The only place they won’t think to look is Obsidia.”

“And then?” she presses. Her voice has a sharp edge, one born of anger and urgency. She doesn’t appear to question why we are heading to my realm.

I meet her gaze steadily. “Then we strategise. This isn’t a conflict we can rush into blindly, Elara. The Council’s influence stretches wide, but that makes them predictable. If we proceed carefully, we can dismantle their power piece by piece.”

She exhales sharply, tension releasing from her shoulders only to return. “Fine. But I won’t hide while they keep using Kaelen as a pawn. The moment we’re ready, I want to strike.”

A dark smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. She’s poised for battle . “We will strike,” I assure her. “But not just yet. Attacking too soon would work to their advantage. You must trust me.”

Her eyes narrow, assessing me, but she doesn’t protest. That’s sufficient for now. I turn, gesturing for her to take my hand so we can travel to Obsidia. She accepts it, and we dissolve into the shadows of the grove.

The crimson tome is tucked securely under my arm, its secrets burning like a brand against my ribs.

I steal a glance at Elara as we warp through the particles of the air, her head resting upon my chest. Her face is set, yet I see the turmoil still churning beneath her calm exterior.

The Council has already taken so much from her: her trust, peace, and choices.

They’ve shackled her fate to Kaelen’s, using the bond as a leash to keep them both in line.

My jaw tightens at the thought. The Council believes they can play gods, sacrificing lives like pieces on a board, feeding their magic with blood and power.

They made a mistake. They won’t see her coming, and they won’t know I will be by her side.

Flickering into existence, we arrive. “Welcome to my humble abode, Elara.” The air is silent around us; she has been through a lot in the past few days. She remains quiet, absorbing a realm she has never seen or visited before.

“You know, this isn’t just about you or Kaelen anymore,” I say as we move through the stillness, my voice breaking the silence.

“The Council has been draining the realm for decades. Others are suffering like you, trapped in systems they didn’t choose.

If we approach this correctly, we can stop them, for good. ”

Elara’s gaze flickers to mine, and I see the spark of under- standing in her eyes. “Then let’s make it count.”

I nod, my steps steady. “We will.”

The path stretches ahead, dark and uncertain, yet I welcome it. I’ve spent too many years waiting in the shadows, searching for something to give me an edge against the Council. Now I have it: proof, fire, and Elara.

The Council’s hold may be extensive, but every system has

its cracks. Weaknesses.

And I will tear through every last one.

The moon hangs low as we move toward my keep, slipping

further into the night. A cold wind stirs through the trees, sharp and alive. I can feel it, change is coming. A storm is gathering, and we’re at its centre .

Let them hunt us. Let them send their guards, their assassins, their spies. It won’t matter. We’ll bring them to their knees.

We move silently through the darkness, each step heavy with the weight of what we’ve uncovered. The crimson tome presses against my side, its damning truth an ever-present burden, a dangerous thing to carry and an even more perilous thing to lose.

Elara walks beside me, quiet yet resolute. Her movements have no fear, but I can tell she’s unaccustomed to this type of flight, the careful, practised steps that leave no sound or trace. That will come with time, if time is something we can carve out for ourselves in this war.

The moon rises higher as we continue, its light filtering through the canopy in fractured streaks of silver. After an hour of steady travel, the forest begins to thin, revealing the familiar silhouette of my keep, hidden, weathered, but still standing.

I glance at Elara as we approach. The pale light briefly illumi- nates her face, her features hard and determined, yet weariness lingers just beneath the surface. She carries more than the burden of this truth; she bears the weight of everything, Kaelen, the bond, and the war we are about to wage.

But she does not falter. Not yet.

Good. We will need every ounce of her fire for what lies ahead.

I push open the heavy wooden door, which groans loudly in the stillness.

The air inside the keep is cool, tinged with the faint scent of smoke and molten rock, familiar and grounding.

I step aside, allowing Elara to enter first. She pauses just inside the threshold, surveying the space with cautious curiosity.

My keep is a monolith of obsidian and basalt, carved from the volcano’s heart. Its jagged spires pierce the smoke-choked sky, defying the fury of the world around it. Within these walls, molten rivers flow like veins of fire, their heat a constant presence, alive, breathing.

The light they cast flickers across the polished obsidian floors, dancing in chaotic patterns that mimic the firestorm outside.

It is a living, shifting fortress, a reflection of its master.

A place where power is felt and seen, radiating in every molten glow, in every sharp line of shadow and stone.

It stands as a bastion of strength, forged in fire and fury. And here, I reign as king.