POV: Seraphina
She had not slept.
The war council began at first light, as Caelan had promised. Seraphina stood at the edge of the room after a night spent staring at her ceiling, counting the hours until dawn. The eighty-nine names still echoed in her head. There had been no time for rest, only waiting.
Now the waiting was over, and a different crisis demanded attention.
The council lasted three hours.
Seraphina watched generals argue over maps she could not read from this distance. Liora stood two paces behind her, a silent guard who had not left her side since the siege ended. Her eyes tracked every movement in the room, cataloging threats even here, even among allies.
Caelan sat at the center of the table, his voice steady and clear as he directed the discussion. He had commanded men through campaigns that would have broken lesser leaders, and it showed in the way the room deferred to him. Even the older generals, men who had served the empire for decades, fell silent when he spoke.
She watched him trace routes on the map with one finger. Watched him assign units and calculate supply lines without hesitation. This was the man who had held her after Whitehall, who had made promises in the dark. Here, he was the commander the empire needed most.
Three border fortresses had gone dark. Creatures were corrupting the land simply by touching it. Barrier stones that had held for centuries were cracking.
The map showed the scope of the disaster. Red markers dotted the eastern border where demon incursions had been reported. Blue markers showed the fortresses still holding. There were fewer blue markers than red.
She knew why, even if the generals debating strategy did not.
The Warden bloodline was supposed to maintain cosmic balance. The Flamebearers who had guarded the realm since its founding, whose magic held the barriers strong, whose fire burned back the darkness.
Her family had been systematically eliminated across generations. The generals saw failing barriers and demon attacks. They did not see the conspiracy that had caused it. They did not know that every death in her bloodline had torn another hole in the protections they now scrambled to defend.
Deaths had weakened the barriers, suppressed awakenings had let more darkness seep through, and murders disguised as accidents or illness had damaged the protections that kept the realm safe.
She was the last, and her awakening had come too late to stop what centuries of slaughter had set in motion.
The trials she had completed bound her to the ward network. The bond she had sacrificed gave her the power she needed. The final ritual at Ember Sanctum remained unfinished, and every day it stayed that way, the realm grew weaker.
Gravenor stood near the door, already dressed for travel. He had fought beside her in the darkness beneath the palace, and now he would ride with the army to face what waited at the border.
"We ride at first light." Caelan's voice carried across the room. "The advance force cannot wait for full mobilization."
First light was only hours away.
Caelan looked up from the map and found her across the room. Their eyes met for a single moment. She saw exhaustion in his face, and determination, and something that looked like grief. He looked away first, returning his attention to the generals demanding answers.
She had known this was coming since the messenger arrived. Had prepared herself for it through the memorial, the investigation, the victory that felt hollow despite everything they had accomplished.
Knowing did not make it easier.
Delca caught her in the corridor after the council dispersed.
"A word, my lady."
Liora's hand moved toward her blade, then stilled when she recognized him. She stayed alert and allowed the approach.
They stepped into an alcove away from the soldiers rushing past. Delca moved stiffly, favoring his left side. The demon claws at the border had left marks that would take weeks to fully heal.
This was the first time she had seen him since before the trials. Since he had thrown himself between Gravenor and a demon's claws at the border and nearly died for it.
"You should be resting," she said. "And I should have come to the border after the trial. I am sorry I did not."
Delca shook his head. "We heard what happened here. A curse that should have consumed the entire palace, and you stopped it." His voice carried no accusation. "You were where you needed to be."
"It should not have taken this long." She reached out and placed her hand on his arm. "Let me fix what I can now."
He tensed but did not pull away. She called soulfire to her palm, keeping it gentle, and let the warmth sink into his body. The healing spread through him, finding the torn muscle, the damaged tissue, the places where demon claws had ripped through flesh and left poison behind.
Delca exhaled slowly as the pain eased. The stiffness in his posture relaxed. The lines of discomfort around his eyes smoothed away.
"Better?" she asked.
"Much." He rolled his shoulder experimentally, testing the range of motion. "I had forgotten what it felt like to move without pain."
"You ride to war in a few hours. You will need to move freely."
"I will." His eyes were hard despite the gratitude in his voice. "But with Caelan gone, you lose your strongest ally in the capital."
"I am aware."
"Are you?" Delca stepped closer, dropping his voice. His gaze flicked to Liora, including her in the conversation. "You have enemies in this court. Powerful ones. And the moment that army rides out, you lose the one man who has been keeping them cautious."
She already knew all of this.
"What would you have me do? Ask him to stay while the barriers fall?"
"No." Delca shook his head. "The realm needs him at the border. I just need to know you understand the risk."
"I understand." She held his gaze. "And I need something from you."
He waited.
"Keep him alive." The words came out steadier than she felt. "Whatever it takes. Bring him back."
Delca's expression shifted. Something that might have been respect, or recognition of what she was really asking.
"I have kept him alive through worse." His voice was quiet. "I will not stop now."
"Thank you."
He nodded once, then looked at Liora. "You have good people here. Keep them close."
"I intend to," Liora said quietly. It was the first time she had spoken.
Delca walked away toward the courtyard where soldiers were already preparing horses. He moved easily now, without the stiffness that had marked his steps before.
She watched him go.
The corridors were crowded and loud.
Servants rushed past carrying supplies, linens, medical kits for the army. Soldiers moved in ordered groups, checking weapons and armor, receiving final instructions from their commanders. The palace had transformed into a staging ground overnight.
Seraphina walked through the noise with Liora at her back. She recognized faces from the siege, guards and servants who had survived the curse, who had seen her burn the corruption from the palace. They nodded as she passed, small acknowledgments of respect.
One of the guards stopped when he saw her. She recognized him. He had been one of the thirty. Gray had been spreading up his neck when she reached him, and she had burned it out while he screamed.
"My lady." He bowed, deeper than protocol required. "I never thanked you properly."
"You do not need to thank me."
"I was dead." His voice was rough. "The healers had already moved on. You came back for me anyway."
She remembered. The chaos of those hours, racing through corridors, reaching for anyone she could still save. He had been slumped against a wall, abandoned. She had knelt beside him and poured fire into his blood until the gray retreated.
"I am glad you survived," she said.
He nodded once and rejoined his unit.
Liora said nothing. Seraphina felt her guard's attention sharpen. Every interaction was a potential threat and every stranger a possible assassin. This was their reality now.
Eleanor summoned her within the hour.
The Empress stood at her study window, watching the torches flicker in the courtyard below. Soldiers moved in organized chaos, preparing through the night for a march that would take them to the edge of the realm.
"Prince Thalion will remain as your protection detail," Eleanor said without preamble. "Until the border situation stabilizes."
Seraphina's spine went rigid. "Your Majesty, that is not necessary."
"It is entirely necessary." Eleanor turned from the window, her face showing the exhaustion of a woman who had not slept in days. "You are the only person who could cure the infected during the siege. The only one whose fire destroyed the curse. You are now the most valuable magical asset in this palace, and I will not leave you unguarded while my best commanders ride to war."
"I can protect myself."
"You can, and you will also accept the protection I assign. This is not negotiable."
Thalion stood at the edge of the room. She had not noticed him enter. His face showed nothing as he accepted the assignment, giving no protest or acknowledgment or any sign that he felt anything at all about being assigned to guard the woman he still suspected.
"Your Highness." Seraphina turned to face him. "You do not need to do this."
"You heard the Empress." His voice was cold. "It is not a request."
She found him in the corridor after, before he could disappear into the palace's endless hallways.
"Thalion." She called his name and he stopped, turning to face her. His expression revealed nothing.
"Lady Seraphina."
"If we are to work together, you need to tell me what I did to earn your hatred."
His expression shifted for a moment before he controlled it.
"Hatred is too strong a word."
"Then what would you call it?"
He was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was quieter than before.
"You burned something into me in that chamber. When you healed my arm." His jaw tightened. "I felt it. Your fire inside my blood. And now my magic responds to you in ways I cannot control. I feel it reaching toward your fire even when I try to suppress it."
She stared at him.
"You think I created some kind of connection? On purpose?"
"I think you are a Flamebearer." He stepped back, putting distance between them. "I think everything about your bloodline is designed to make people trust you, follow you, lo..." He stopped. Started again. "Look at you favorably." The correction came out stiff. "I will protect you because the Empress commands it. Do not expect anything more."
"I saved your life." She held her ground. "And I did not force anything. Your magic welcomed mine. I expected it to fight me. Earth and fire are not natural allies. Instead your power opened to me and guided my fire toward the curse." She met his eyes. "I was as surprised as you."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"I expect you to consider that whatever pull exists between our magic, it was already there. The healing did not create it. It only made it stronger."
His expression flickered. She had landed somewhere close to the truth he did not want to face.
"You did something to my magic." His voice was quieter now, less certain. "That is not the same as saving my life."
He turned and walked away.
She watched him go and did not follow.
She stood alone after he left, processing what he had said. His earth magic responded to her fire. Reached toward it, even when he fought the connection.
She had not created that pull. She was certain of it now. The harmony between their powers had surprised her too. Whatever existed between them, it had been waiting long before she poured soulfire into his blood.
The healing had only revealed what was already there. And somehow, that felt more dangerous than if she had bound him by accident.
A servant hurried past, arms full of linens. The palace never stopped moving, even at this hour. Seraphina straightened her shoulders and continued walking. She could not afford to stand in corridors feeling sorry for herself. Not tonight.
Yona found her in the corridor outside Eleanor's study.
Her aide had been waiting, as she always did. She was patient and watchful, though the dark circles under her eyes showed sleepless nights and her own recovery from the curse that had nearly claimed her life.
"My lady." Yona fell into step beside her. "You look troubled."
"The Prince has been assigned as my protection."
Yona's expression changed briefly. She had been present when Thalion walked out of the infirmary during her own crisis. Had seen the conflict in him, the suspicion mixed with something else she could not name.
"That will be complicated."
"Yes, it will."
They walked in silence for a moment. Liora had gone to check on the guards, leaving them alone.
"How are you feeling?" Seraphina asked. "Truly."
"Stronger every day." Yona touched her chest where the gray had spread furthest. "The healers say I will recover fully. Thanks to you, and to the Prince, though he would not want acknowledgment."
The soulwell essence Thalion had brought from the imperial reserves. He had pressed it into her hands when she was too drained to heal anyone else. Without it, Yona would have died.
"He is not what I expected," Seraphina admitted.
"Few people are, my lady." Yona's voice was gentle. "In my experience, the ones who fight hardest against connection are often the ones who need it most."
Seraphina did not answer. She was too tired to parse the wisdom in her aide's words.
Beneath her sleeves, the fire-scars pulsed.