The teleportation light had barely faded before Arasha was striding through the marble corridors of the capital's palace, Kane at her side, her voice cutting through the startled greetings of the guards.
"An emergency meeting," she told the nearest messenger. "With Linalee and His Majesty. Now."
The urgency in her tone left no room for delay. Servants scattered to carry her message, and within minutes Linalee emerged from the council chambers, skirts whispering across the polished floor.
"You've returned faster than I expected," Linalee said, eyes narrowing at the grim set of Arasha's jaw. "What happened?"
"Rift breach. Large. Civilian casualties." Kane's answer was clipped.
Without another word, Linalee led them into a side chamber. "You'll lead this meeting," she said, gesturing for them to take the center of the long, inlaid table.
Arasha wasted no time. "We can't rely on riders and runners. Every major strategic point we discussed before—the fortresses, border watchtowers, supply depots—needs a teleportation circle, interconnected. The faster we can move, the fewer lives we lose."
Kane added, "With the right wards, the circles will be secure. We'll set up anchor points here in the capital as the network's heart."
Linalee nodded. "And the allies?"
"We rally them now," Arasha said. "Every military force they can spare must be ready to respond within minutes of a call."
By the time King Alight entered, the plan was already forming. He listened, jaw tight, then nodded sharply. "We begin immediately."
Within the hour, the royal court was convened. The great hall rang with the voices of assembled nobles, the banners of old houses hanging above their heads.
King Alight's voice carried over the din. "We face an enemy that will not wait for us to debate. Today, you will each take a task to ensure this kingdom's survival."
Many nodded their assent, stepping forward to claim their assignments—organizing supply lines, securing manpower, funding magical wards.
But others shifted in their seats, eyes narrowing.
One portly lord stood, his voice dripping with scorn. "And why are we here in the first place? Because she—" he jabbed a jeweled finger toward Arasha "—provoked a dangerous cult. She's dragged the whole country into their vengeance!"
A murmur rippled through the hall, some voices rising in agreement.
Linalee's voice cut through the noise like a blade. "Enough. Without her, half of you would already be ash at the feet of those cults."
King Alight stepped forward, his gaze sweeping the room. "This court will not waste time pointing fingers while our people bleed. If you cannot commit to the defense of the realm, then step aside and let those with the will to act lead."
The chamber fell quiet under his command, but the tension lingered. Though the most vocal dissenters were silenced, the shadow of unrest still clung to the air.
****
The heavy double doors closed with a deep, echoing thud, sealing the four of them inside the council's private war chamber.
Only the muted crackle of the hearth filled the silence for a moment, the air dense with the weight of the earlier confrontation.
King Alight stood at the head of the table, resting both hands on the polished surface. "We'll move forward with the teleportation network, but we'd be fools not to address the danger it brings. One sabotage at the wrong anchor point, and the entire system could collapse—or worse, be turned against us."
Linalee leaned forward, her voice sharp. "The placement of circles must be guarded, and the runes kept under strict warding. Only the most loyal will be permitted access to their designs."
Kane, who had been quiet until now, spoke with deliberate calm. "The problem isn't just external threats. You all heard them in the meeting. The ones who opposed us most openly—those nobles won't forget this. If someone inside decides to tamper with the circles… it could cripple our response at the worst moment."
Arasha's eyes narrowed. "You're saying the rot's in our own walls."
"I'm saying we'd better plan as if it is," Kane replied.
Alight's expression darkened, but he nodded. "We'll tighten surveillance on the nobles who voiced dissent. Their estates, their movements, their communications—all will be under quiet watch."
"That will help," Kane said, "but with how stretched you'll be managing the rift countermeasures, something will slip past. You need more eyes. Not just spies or soldiers—the people themselves."
Linalee tilted her head. "The people?"
"Tell them the truth," Kane said. "That their vigilance is part of the kingdom's defense. Make them feel that their watchfulness matters—that it's their right, even their duty, to safeguard the realm alongside the crown. If the nobles know the streets themselves are watching… they'll think twice before moving against you."
The suggestion hung in the air.
Alight's stern expression softened into something almost warm. "That's… a fine idea. It turns our greatest vulnerability into a strength." He looked Kane in the eye. "You've given me much to think about. Thank you."
Linalee's lips curved into a knowing smile as she regarded Kane. "The more I speak with you, the more potential I see. You're not just Arasha's shadow—you're a strategist in your own right."
Kane gave a faint shrug, but his eyes flicked briefly toward Arasha before settling back on the table. "I just want to make sure she comes back alive. Everything else is secondary."
The council chamber's heavy air seemed to cling to them as Arasha and Kane stepped into the corridor, the muted torchlight casting their shadows long along the polished stone floor.
Neither spoke as they made their way toward the Scion Order's designated offices within the palace, their steps echoing in quiet sync.
Kane's gaze lingered on her profile.
She held her chin high, her posture as steady as ever, but he could see it—the faint stiffness in her shoulders, the subtle downturn of her lips, the silence that wasn't her usual calm but a careful dam holding something in.
"You're worried," he said quietly.
Arasha's eyes flicked to him briefly, then back to the path ahead. "I'm always worried."
"This isn't the kind of worry that keeps you sharp," Kane pressed. "This is the kind that weighs you down."
She didn't answer immediately. Kane slowed his pace just enough to reach for her hand.
His fingers curled around hers with a steady, grounding pressure. "It's the people, isn't it? Their involvement."
Her breath caught—almost imperceptibly.
"I've fought for them all my life, Kane," she said at last, her voice low, roughened by something unspoken. "I've bled, I've nearly died, more times than I can count. And yet… the thought that their action might draw the nobles' retaliation in ways neither the crown nor I can shield them from…" She trailed off, shaking her head slightly. "It makes my heart heavy."
Kane's grip tightened. "You should try to trust them, Arasha. Believe in them. You've sacrificed yourself for them over and over—but maybe it's time to give them the chance to stand beside you instead of always behind you."
Her gaze flickered toward him, searching.
"The people are tougher than you give them credit for," Kane went on, his tone unwavering. "Deep down, they want to protect what matters to them. Giving them a way to do that will make them stronger. More resilient."
For a long moment, she held his gaze, the noise of the palace corridor falling away.
The firmness in his eyes was unshakable—solid as stone yet warm as a hearth.
Slowly, she exhaled the tension she'd been carrying.
"You're right," she murmured. And without quite realizing it, she leaned in, her shoulder brushing his. "You're right."
Kane said nothing more, but his thumb brushed lightly against her knuckles before they continued down the hall together.