Nalia's POV
The night we chose to confront the Voidbinder did not feel heroic, nor glorious, nor even remotely wise, because the sky itself seemed uneasy as though the world understood we were about to provoke something ancient enough to remember creation before language existed. Clouds folded over the moon in slow restless motions while the palace courtyard transformed into a ritual ground carved with sigils Ian and Finn had spent the entire day painting across stone using mixtures that smelled sharply of silver dust, crushed moonroot, and something older that made my magic itch beneath my skin.
I stood barefoot at the center of the formation, the cold marble pressing reality into me while the silver sigils along my arms burned faintly in response to the array surrounding us, and for once none of the princes joked or argued because every single one of them understood that tonight was not training, not theory, not recovery from grief. Tonight we were bait.
