“There’s talk of prophecy,” he continues. “Of balance being broken. Of war returning in a form we’re not ready for.”

My hands curl into fists. Not because I don’t believe it. But because I do. And I already know what’s coming next.

“So,” he says, gaze sweeping the room. “We prepare.”

There’s a beat of silence before he turns—right toward me.

Of course.

“Callum.”

I tense. “Yeah?”

“You and Vann are going to Draconis Fire.”

My heart drops into my stomach.

“What?” I say. “Why?”

“They’ve requested a presence. Ours. To discuss terms if open conflict breaks out.”

“You’re sending me?”

“You’re the heir. And you’re the one who decided to vouch for the Bolvi girl so openly when she was awakened, so it’s only fair you go represent our stake in this.”

I feel every eye in the room shift toward me.

Of fucking course.

This isn’t a mission. It’s a punishment with a diplomatic bow wrapped around it.

Vann, to his credit, smirks his smug fangy grin at what he considers justice.

“Glad to have you by my side, Alpha,” he says, voice laced with mock respect.

I don’t look at him. I can’t. If I do, I’ll break something—and it won’t be subtle.

“Fine,” I say. “When?”

“Dawn.”

I exhale through my nose, sharp and slow. “Great.”

The meeting dissolves a few minutes later. People linger, talking in low tones. Mathis pretends he doesn’t see me shooting daggers at the wall with my eyes.

But I know he does.

Because for all the strength he carries, all that ancient, commanding presence—there’s still something behind his eyes that flickers every time he looks at me. Something like guilt. Like recognition of the line he crossed between being my father and being my commander.

But it’s too late for that now.

He raised me to lead.

Even if it means I have to burn the whole damn map he handed me to do it.

The meeting dissolves a few minutes later. People linger, talking in low tones. Mathis pretends he doesn’t see me shooting daggers at the wall with my eyes.

Elias leans over. “You okay?”