Page 15

CHAPTER 15

LYKOR

T he first to arrive in the war room, Lykor sat at the head of the ironwood table, drumming his fingers against the polished surface. Long shadows crept over the stronghold, stretching thin like his patience. Through the fractured window, the sun bled over jagged peaks, streaking the horizon in molten hues.

A draft swept through the cracks in the shield, hissing against the broken glass. The ward needed reinforcing, but Serenna could handle it—her reckless blast had shattered the window in the first place.

Aesar’s voice slipped in through his thoughts. I see you can finally deign to recognize her by name.

Lykor stilled his tapping fingers, his gauntlet grinding into the wood. I’M GOING TO BE AT MY WIT’S END WITH THIS LOT AS IT IS. I DON’T NEED YOU CHIMING IN TO MAKE IT WORSE.

Still, breaking the bond had dulled his instinct to loathe the girl for breathing and, grudgingly, she’d earned a fraction of his respect. She’d proven her usefulness, and he nearly admired her loyalty to Fenn. Though Lykor would sooner gouge out his own eyes than admit it aloud.

Footsteps echoed through the chamber as Kal, Mara, and Thalaesyn entered, taking seats near the center of the table in front of sprawling maps.

Lykor’s thoughts churned as he assessed the group, already calculating where their magic would be most useful. Thalaesyn had obviously shared some of his talents with Mara. Both now appeared similar to Kal—suspended between elf and wraith—their burnished hair and midnight skin blurring the line between twilight and ethereality.

Aesar tilted his head, studying the changes in his mother and the researcher. They’ve rebonded. I’m sure of it.

SO TOUCHING .

Kal placed both Hearts of Stars on the table. Shards of sunlight refracted through the prisms, scattering bursts of color.

Flicking his wrist, Lykor lashed one relic with a tendril of force, snapping it to his palm.

“You keep the other,” he muttered when Kal raised his brows. Tucking the Heart into a pocket, he added, “In case misfortune finds either of us.”

Kal’s silence was a blessing, though the look on his face demanded answers Lykor had no intention of providing. As soon as Lykor shifted back in his seat, his eye twitched—Fenn and Serenna’s laughter ricocheted down the corridor, grating with far too much mirth.

As they entered, Fenn reached up to scrape his talons against the doorway—an adolescent habit for luck that he refused to outgrow. His grin stretched wide as he slid into the seat beside Lykor. Serenna settled next to the lieutenant, but Lykor hardly noticed, his thoughts fragmenting when Jassyn and Vesryn appeared.

Eyes thinning to slits, Lykor locked onto Jassyn—whom he’d deemed the most dangerous in the room. His gaze snagged on the scar he’d wrought, the torchlight making it gleam like an accusation.

A reminder of his own rage.

At the time, it had seemed justified. Now, it felt like a weight. Heavy. Crushing. His chest compressed, that useless organ pounding against his ribs.

Aesar’s voice rippled with disapproval. You went too far and you know it.

The thought burned, hotter than he cared to admit. A rumble vibrated through Lykor’s throat as his fingers curled against the edge of the table, the ironwood creaking while he smothered the guilt. Regret was for the weak.

By all means, keep snarling. That always works. Aesar blew out a sigh, his chiding laced with exasperation. I figured you could see the difference between a threat and a weapon.

Anger was simpler than admitting Aesar was right, the truth an intrusion burrowing under Lykor’s skin. But coercion wasn’t just a weapon. It was also a noose, tightening with every stolen choice. And he refused to let anyone wield that power over him again.

“He’s not welcome here,” Lykor gritted out, scouring Jassyn with a glare.

Jassyn stiffened, his eyes darting toward the exit. Vesryn straightened, snatched Jassyn’s arm, and hauled him to the table. The prince lowered himself to the seat at the opposite end, facing Lykor with stony defiance.

“He stays,” Vesryn clipped, “whether you like it or not.”

Lykor’s fangs extended, provoked by the challenge in the prince’s tone. “This is my fortress,” he growled. “And I won’t suffer him within these walls. I want him gone.”

Vesryn folded his arms. “And I want my brother present. But it seems we don’t all get what we want.”

Lykor’s gauntlet screeched as he clenched his fist, but Fenn spoke up before he could spit out a retort.

“Lykor is the reason Aesar survived—the reason the wraith have survived.” His claws clicked against the table. “You will show him proper respect, Princeling.”

Vesryn’s gaze snapped to Fenn and then shifted to Serenna, sharp and searching. He opened his mouth, but whatever he was about to say, he locked back behind his jaw.

“We’re here to discuss what comes next,” Kal interjected, his soothing voice doing little to douse the smoldering tension.

“I agree,” Lykor grated out, shoulders twitching with annoyance. “The sooner we—”

“Who put you in charge?” the prince interrupted. “Shouldn’t we vote on who will lead us?” He raised a hand. “I vote Aesar.”

Lykor sneered. “This isn’t a fucking council.” He jabbed a finger at the door. “If you don’t like how I run things, see yourself out.”

More than ready to expel his irritation, Lykor leaned forward. “What are you anyway? A prince of nothing? Enlighten me as to what you’re bringing to this table aside from your complaints.”

“I lead the rangers,” Vesryn shot back. “And we have nearly a hundred fighting dracovae, all paired with elven-blooded warriors.” Crossing his arms, his fingers began tapping an agitated tempo. “I need to relocate everyone somewhere safe before the capital extends its reach to us—it’s only a matter of time.”

Lykor’s lip curled. “If you’re suggesting my stronghold, think again. We’re already housing more strays than I want.”

Aesar halted his pacing in their mind. A hundred Essence-wielders would be a significant asset. He flicked out a hand. Perhaps you’d complain less about being the only one with magic if we combined our forces.

“We can fend for ourselves,” Vesryn insisted, a tendon straining in his neck. “Can’t you see the advantage of having scouts cover more ground from the air? From what Kal has told me, my fliers could give us early warning if that human army approaches.”

Lykor rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t think you’d need reminding that the cold will kill your beasts—likely even faster than your idiocy.”

Vesryn’s nostrils flared as he shifted in his chair, as restless as Lykor felt.

“We all want the same thing—safety for our people,” Jassyn said quietly. A reminder.

Lykor hadn’t meant to look at him, but his gaze landed again on the jagged seam slicing through Jassyn’s eye. The scar shouldn’t have mattered—shouldn’t have felt like a blade twisting in his chest, each glance at it sharper than the last.

But it did.

Lykor bared his fangs and Vesryn tensed, but Jassyn placed his hand on the table in front of the prince, a signal for restraint.

“We need to address our wraith,” Jassyn continued, unflinching as he met Lykor’s scowl head-on, those soft amber eyes daring him to feel the sting of regret. “The king has drained hundreds of elven-blooded, as well as scores of Centarya’s former recruits, and released them across the realms.” He turned toward Thalaesyn, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. “We’ve unraveled the coercion that renders them mindless, but the rangers collect more wraith every day. We’re running out of room.”

“I can assimilate them into our ranks,” Fenn offered, immediately perking up. “The ones who want to fight. For the rest, our crafting districts offer a wealth of trades to master.” He shrugged, spinning a ring in his ears. “Not everyone’s destiny lies in being a warrior.”

“Most of the recruits were nobles, like I was,” Serenna added. “Any adjustment might be difficult if—”

“They’ll adjust,” Lykor snapped. “Or they can find someone else foolish enough to take them in. I’ve no tolerance for useless nobility.”

But those stripped of magic, discarded like refuse after the king drained their power—they weren’t nobles anymore. Allowing them to join his number wasn’t born of sympathy. It was recognition of a grim kinship, how they were victims of the same torment. Lykor knew that terror too well to ignore it.

Ripping his mind away from the past that threatened to resurface, he jutted his chin at the lieutenant. “You’ll oversee the integration personally. If any of them prove too lazy to pull their weight, I’ll hold you responsible.”

Thalaesyn gave a thoughtful nod. “Losing their magic has left many unmoored. We’ll need to give them purpose—a place to belong. With the state of the realms, there’s no safety for them outside your walls.”

A disgusted growl wrestled out of Lykor’s throat before he thrust his finger toward the researcher. “This is your fault. You were too desperate, so reckless with Essence in trying to reverse that sterility curse.” His chest heaved as decades of pent-up fury suddenly rekindled, blazing under his skin. “Galaeryn wouldn’t have learned how to steal power if you didn’t do it first! You handed him the knowledge he needed.”

That’s not entirely fair, Aesar said quietly, the sun fading from his library, turning the room dark. The king was already on that path.

Sucking in a breath, Lykor refocused and realized everyone was staring at him.

“I’ll work with Fenn to reorganize the squads,” Kal said quickly, seizing the lull to interject. “The reavers left gaps that need filling.”

As if anyone cared about his meticulous handling of such trivialities.

“Our clans are organized for departure,” Mara said. “We’re ready to leave at a moment’s notice. Thal and I can oversee the civilians.” Her hand settled over Thalaesyn’s in a quiet show of solidarity.

Lykor’s gut twisted at the gesture of affection in what had to be a flash of disgust.

“Speaking of,” Kal began, twirling a braid between his fingers. “How far across the Wastes did you navigate? You really should bring someone else with—”

“I’m making progress,” Lykor muttered, sensing Fenn nearly vibrating out of his seat, undoubtedly on the verge of volunteering himself.

But he hadn’t ventured very far to the west—barely enough to justify the lie. The only way to reach new ground was to portal as far as the eye could see. Fabricating gateways from horizon to horizon after his battle with the reavers had drained Essence faster than he cared to admit, the strain chipping away at his pride.

“How far, exactly?” Vesryn pressed, jade eyes sharpening in a slant of sunlight. “Aesar and I combined our power and portal jumped with the dracovae to find that jungle. If you can’t manage it, I could bring Naru and Trella here—”

“I’m not bonding with you to cross the mountain ranges,” Lykor snarled, fangs flashing at the sheer audacity of the suggestion.

“And what does my brother have to say about this?” Vesryn grated, ignoring Lykor’s contempt. “I want to hear his thoughts.”

Forming a tight fist, Lykor’s gauntlet scraped channels into the table. “You’ll have plenty of time to gossip when Aesar is out.”

Nostrils flaring, Vesryn’s restraint finally broke. “Does he have any say at all?” He shot out of his seat, the chair skidding behind him. “You can’t keep him locked up!”

Bypassing Kal—who apparently wouldn’t follow an order anyway, seeing as how Jassyn was still present—Lykor flicked his wrist to Fenn. “Lieutenant, escort the prince out. It seems he can’t accept our leadership.”

Fenn’s eyes flared, his grin all fangs as he rose to his full height. “With pleasure.”

“Fenn, sit down,” Serenna hissed. She pointed at Vesryn. “And you too. We’ll get nowhere if you can’t bring yourself to make some concessions. You’ll have time to discuss matters with Aesar in the evenings.”

“I wouldn’t have to make any concessions if Aesar were here now.” Baring his teeth, Vesryn skewered Lykor with a glare as he planted his fists on the table, pitching forward. “Aesar deserves better than to be locked away—he deserves better than you.”

Lykor slammed his gauntlet down, the crack reverberating through the chamber. “You don’t get to accuse me of anything when it comes to him. You lost your right to have an opinion the moment you weren’t there for him!”

Aesar’s voice rippled into his thoughts, sharper than before. That isn’t helping.

HE DOESN’T GET TO TALK TO ME LIKE THAT, Lykor seethed.

Shadows surged in a billowing cloud around Vesryn, darkening his side of the room. Jassyn shot out a hand to grip the prince’s shoulder, settling him back into his chair.

“Lykor belongs here as much as anyone,” Jassyn said, his palm pressing down to root Vesryn in place.

“I don’t need my right to exist to be defended,” Lykor snarled, his irritation threatening to erupt at Jassyn’s interference.

Vesryn’s eyes clashed with his. “My brother has more of a right to be here than you .”

“Oh, do you believe that?” Lykor scoffed, leaning forward, his talons scoring grooves into wood. “I exist because of you . Tell me, Prince ,” he spat. “Where were you when Galaeryn came for Aesar? You call yourself his brother but you weren’t there when he needed you.” Lykor drove a finger into his own chest. “ I was. I protected him because you abandoned him.”

Vesryn tensed in his seat, the curtain of rending flickering before dissipating.

“Tell us where you were that night,” Lykor demanded, the words a knife aimed straight for the prince’s heart.

“Lykor,” Mara murmured from across the table.

He ignored her. Vesryn swallowed, gaze dropping while Lykor railed on. “Tell us where you were for twenty years while we rotted in that special place Galaeryn carved out for us in those mountain dungeons. Tell us—”

Stars, that’s enough, Aesar said, breaking through the fog of Lykor’s rage. What more do you want? Do you really need to keep kicking him while he’s already down?

YES, Lykor fired back, his anger roaring.

Vesryn isn’t responsible for what our sire did. Aesar’s tone softened. It’s time to let the past go. I did.

Lykor’s gaze shifted back to the prince, who was staring pointedly out the shielded window, refusing to meet his eyes.

Serenna cleared her throat, the only one brave enough to break the silence. “So, we’ve decided that Mara and Magister Thalaesyn will oversee the civilians. Kal and Fenn will integrate the new wraith from the rangers.”

Dragging her lip between her teeth, she studied the prince. “Vesryn will coordinate their arrival with his officers.”

She shared a look with Jassyn next—one Lykor ignored before her focus landed squarely on him. “And while you make progress crossing the Wastes, Jassyn and I can search the jungle for the other Heart.”

“Good,” Vesryn clipped, the word snapping like a blade into its sheath. “We have everything settled.” Pushing away from the table, he extended a hand and opened a portal. “I’ll confer with the rangers.” Turning sharply, he disappeared through the rift without a backward glance.

Lykor muttered under his breath, wishing he could vanish just as easily. His spine flattened against the back of his chair when Jassyn rose, trailing silently after the prince. Glaring at the portal fading behind them, Lykor ground his fangs, thoughts churning in a whirlwind he couldn’t sort.

The chamber rocked.

A tremor rattled through the stone. The walls shuddered, iron sconces screeching in their brackets. Lykor shoved to his feet, gripping the table as it shivered beneath his palms.

“Was that—” Serenna started, her words evaporating into the heavy thrum reverberating through the room.

This wasn’t an earthquake.

No one moved. Every pair of eyes locked onto him, expectant. He didn’t have the answers—but they looked at him like he should.

The realization slid through Lykor like ice, chilling his blood as dread clawed up his spine. The air vibrated with a charge that could only be one thing—a massive pulse of Essence.

Warping to the window, Lykor’s breath hitched as he scanned the valley below.

Magic spilled across the dying sky, crashing over the landscape. Portals tore open in rapid succession—gaping voids rupturing the air.

Lykor tracked the figures appearing through the rifts. White-armored ranks moved with precision, their heavy cloaks blending into the snowy backdrop. Their hands lifted in unison, Essence streaking from their palms in concentrated streams, aimed at the fortress.

Pressure mounted as their power lashed against the volcano. Each strike threatened to rip the stronghold apart stone by stone.

Then came the wraith.

They spilled from the rifts, shadows clawing their way into existence. Their snarls pierced the air, shrieking with the promise of death as they surged toward the entrance tunnels.

Lykor’s heart thundered in his chest. He turned sharply, meeting the wide, stricken eyes of everyone else.

This was no mere attack.

This was annihilation.

Their end.