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Chapter nine

HYACINTH

Candlelight flickered against the throne room walls as I made my way to the war room. The quiet thud of my boots against the marble floor echoed through the silent chamber as my mind flooded with thoughts of Ata.

Tonight was the first time she hadn’t said she loved me back.

I stopped at the heavy, wooden door, taking a deep breath in before pushing it open.

Landers sat at his desk, reading through stacks of parchment as Elric, Asrai, Wren, and Andrues stood around the table in the center in the room—studying its moving landscapes.

Landers’s eyes flickered up to meet mine and a smile flashed across his lips as he stood and moved toward me.

“Hyacinth,” Elric said quietly in greeting as he bowed his head toward me.

Nodding in response, I leaned into Landers’s chest as he slid behind me and wrapped his arms around my body.

My fingers curled around his forearms as I watched the three of them circle the table.

I noticed then, Pri in the far corner of the room, crouched down and digging through an old crate of scrolls.

She glanced up from her search and smiled as our eyes connected.

“Is Ata coming?” she asked from the corner as she straightened to her full height, her arms filled with stacks of parchment and scrolls.

“I doubt it,” Wren scoffed. “She hasn’t come to the last three, I don’t see why she would start now.” Pri elbowed him in the side as she passed by him, glaring as she dropped her items onto a scribes cart.

“You need to give her some grace, she has been through more than any of us since leaving your academy,” Pri scolded, her tone firm as she dusted off her tunic.

“She may have loved Ardan, but he was my brother and—” Pri threw up her hand, cutting Wren off.

“This is not just about Ardan. His loss has left a hole that may never be filled. You did not endure endless torture without breaking, without giving up an ounce of information. You did not lose the love of your life only to turn around and be asked to allow that same man—the man that inflicted that pain—to penetrate your mind. And not because it is what she wants him to do, but because, even underneath the turmoil that is swimming inside of her, she knows it will keep all of you safe.”

Wren’s jaw flexed at the bite in Pri’s words and from the corner of my eye I could see Elric’s back straighten.

“She is the only reason you are not drowning at the bottom of a bottle, do not forget that,” Pri added as I leaned further into Landers.

I had never seen Pri talk to Wren like this, never heard her aim such sharp words at him. Wren looked at her for a long moment, then let out a sigh as he dragged a hand down his face.

“You’re right,” Wren said, nodding as Pri moved to his side and brushed her hand down his back, her features softening as she looked up at him.

There was still so much pain in each of us, none of us knowing how to move forward without him though we pretended day after day.

“We should get started,” Andrues said, breaking through the heaviness in the room.

I nodded, as Landers shifted at my back.

“Any news on Redelvtum?” I asked as Asrai pulled her eyes away from the table and met mine.

“No. Not since the last group of Drow refugees crossed into Locdragoon last month. My lines of intelligence in Rahval have gone quiet since,” Wren said, worry braided into each word he spoke as his eyes stayed fixed on the battle scene in front of him.

“Quiet, is not comforting,” Asrai responded, her tone sharp.

“It seems odd doesn’t it? That neither The Silliands or Ammord have tried any kind of attack since they followed me into Ithia?” I asked, my brows furrowing.

“No,” Asrai cut in. “The High Priestesses of The Silliands are smart and calculating. Now that they have seen a fraction of what your magic can do, and lost Dukovich from their ranks, they will not risk attacking based on emotion like they did in Edvhir.”

Landers straightened, his hands sliding up my arms before slipping out from behind me and taking a step toward the war table.

“Time is running out Asrai,” Landers said, tilting his head in her direction, and I forced myself not to recoil at the look she shot back. “They will come, and when they do, they will be more ready than they have ever been.”

A shiver ran down my spine at his words.

“How can we win a war with no real army?” I asked, my eyes flashing between Asrai and Landers.

“The Laith and the Yaldrin are not fighters. I know that they will fight if they must, but it will be a slaughter. They are farmers and healers, they don’t stand a chance against Hanth or Marzog armies.

Especially not when trained by Drow Generals. ”

“I will train them. I did it four hundred years ago, and I can do it again,” Asrai snapped as I pushed myself from the desk.

“That is not enough and you know it. You cannot train healers and farmers for only a few months and expect them to survive a war.” Asrai’s spine straightened at the bite in my voice and I crossed my arms over my chest to hide my shaking hands.

We were all on edge, I could feel the tension buzzing through the air—brushing against the frayed ends of our nerves.

“Hyacinth is right, Asrai,” Andrues said, his voice cutting into the silence that lingered between us.

“With the soldiers and refugees Dukovich was able to smuggle out of Redelvtum, we still only have a fraction of the army we will need. And, if The Silliands and Ammord truly have the leverage over Redelvtum as it seems, the rest of your soldiers will be on the other side of the fight.”

Asrai’s complexion paled at his words and she closed her eyes, resigned to the truth as she sucked in a deep breath, slowly opening her eyes again.

“We do have another option,” she said, lifting a brow toward Landers. I watched as his muscles went stiff, his knuckles turning white as he fisted his hands.

“ No ,” Landers snarled, his eyes growing dark as he met her stare.

“What are you talking about?” I snapped, taking a step toward Asrai. “What is the other option?”

Landers’s jaw clenched as Asrai pulled her gaze from him and locked eyes with me.

“We wake the Fallen Ones.”

I froze.

I had read the name only once in the altered versions of The Stories I had access to at the academy, that I now knew I couldn’t trust.

“What does that mean?” I breathed, turning toward Landers. The vein running along his neck pulsed under his tattoo as he dragged a hand over his face. “Who exactly are the Fallen Ones, Landers?”

Landers stared at me for a long moment before answering, something akin to fear flashing behind his hardened eyes. “They are Gods, exiled from Idradora, the Celestial realm.”

Elric and Wren exchanged glances but remained silent as Asrai cut in.

“They were banished from Idradora with their dragons. Their title of ‘God,’ as well as the Higher Magic that came with it, stripped from them and their bloodlines cursed.” Asrai’s tone was cold as the words slipped from her lips.

“Those five Gods were turned to stone—cursed to never die and never fully live, only to watch as Nimbria moved on without them. Their children fled from Idradora to the furthest corners of Nimbria, afraid of your grandparents’ vengeance and determined to keep whatever curse was placed upon them secret. ”

“Why were they banished?” I asked, my mind racing as I processed the information.

“Because they did not think there should be one God to rule the realms. They wanted each realm to have their own celestial hierarchy, and they wanted to be the ones to rule over them. Your grandparents refused to give up an ounce of power so they exiled them—made them an example to anyone else in Idradora who thought for even a second about going against their wishes.” I could feel the vitriol spewing from Asrai with each word she spoke, the hate she still held for them after all these centuries.

“The Gods are not immune to corruption.”

“And their dragons, why were they exiled with them?”

Landers started pacing as he slipped a hand through his raven hair. From across the room, I could see Andrues watching him closely, studying him.

“Because dragons answer to no God outside of who they are bonded to. There are only twelve dragons left in existence that we know of. Nithra and the other four you freed from The Silliands, the two that are bonded to your grandparents, and the five that were turned to stone alongside their masters,” Landers answered.

“And these Gods, are they dangerous?” Wren asked.

“It is impossible to know. This happened over a thousand years ago; we have no way of knowing if they would be willing to help us. No way of knowing that they will not kill us the moment we wake them, which is why we will not be doing it.” The words were daggers as they left Landers’s lips, aimed directly at Asrai.

She smiled softly, unfazed as she turned her attention back to me.

“Ultimately, this is your decision, Hyacinth,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You are the only one who can wake them.”

From the corner of my eye I could see Landers stop pacing, his jaw tightening at her words as a lump formed in my throat.

“How? If I decide that is what I want to do, how would I do it?”

“A God’s blood must be spilled across them, God’s blood still rich with Higher Magic. Then, dragon fire must be used to seal it into their stone tomes.”

“You are forgetting one very important detail, Asrai,” Landers said, his words a low growl. I turned to face him, my eyes locking onto his. “They are in the Blackridge Mountains. They are in The Silliands.”

“Getting a dragon into The Silliands undetected would be nearly impossible,” Elric blurted, his brows furrowing as he looked between Asrai and Landers.

“Unless,” Asrai started slowly, “you have someone with you, practiced in the art of glamouring.”