Azrael’s lips quirked in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “That about sums it up.”
I exhaled, letting the weight of it settle over me. “Then we need to start now. I shall also return to Lunairis and find Bastian, a brilliant swordsman and trusty captain. Let’s hope the Darkness hasn’t consumed him.”
Azrael nodded. “Then let’s prepare. Because once we begin, there’s no turning back.”
The war council had begun.
We gathered around the great wooden table in Azrael’s keep, a massive, ancient thing covered in faded maps and worn tomes. The weight of what we were about to attempt pressed down on all of us, but there was no time for doubt.
Azrael straightened, his gaze sweeping over the table. “We will need to divide our efforts. Elara, you will go to Lunairis and find Bastian. If he still breathes, he will fight for us. Darius, you will seek out the Lycans of the Ashen Wilds. They value strength above all. You will have to prove yourself to them.”
Darius let out a low groan. “Fantastic. Nothing like almost dying to earn someone’s respect.”
Azrael ignored him and continued, his tone sharp with urgency. “I will travel to the Ruined Sanctum and attempt to persuade the Revenant Knights. They answer only to vengeance, but we can offer them a war worth fighting. And as for the Nightborne Fae...” His gaze flickered to me. “Elara, you have the best chance at gaining their favour. They respect power and the promise of chaos, and you can offer them both.”
I nodded. “I’ll make sure they listen.”
Azrael’s jaw tightened. “And while we’re doing this, I will attempt to wake the dragon beneath the keep. If we fail to gather enough forces, it may be our only hope.”
The room fell into a heavy silence. Even with our resolve, the risks loomed high above us. But we had no choice.
Darius exhaled sharply. “Alright. We split up, recruit some terrifying warriors, and then come back to deal with the hell- spawn in Ebonshade. Sounds easy.”
Azrael shot him a dry look. “Try not to get yourself killed.” Darius smirked. “No promises.”
With the plan in place, we dispersed to prepare. But as I
made my way through the stone corridors, a familiar presence stopped me in my tracks.
Azrael stood in the dimly lit hallway, leaning against the cool stone wall. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes, something restless.
“Elara,” he said quietly, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. I hesitated before stepping closer. “What is it?”
His fingers flexed at his sides as though waging a silent
war with himself. Then, before I could react, he reached out, catching my wrist. His warm and grounding grip sent a shiver up my spine.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” he admitted, his voice low. “If we fail, if the dragon destroys us, if Withers and Kaelen win, ”
I cut him off by stepping into him, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body. “We’re not going to fail.”
His breath hitched, and for a moment, I saw the conflict warring behind his dark eyes. Then, as if something in him snapped, he crushed his lips against mine.
It was desperate, unrelenting, and filled with all the emotions he never spoke aloud. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me flush against him, and I tangled my fingers in his hair, refusing to let go. The world outside the corridor faded. The war, the dragon, the impossible battle ahead, all of it ceased to exist in that moment.
When we finally broke apart, his forehead rested against mine. His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “When this is over...”
I swallowed hard. “Then we’ll see what’s left of us.”
He exhaled shakily, pressing a lingering kiss to my forehead before stepping back. “Stay alive, Elara.”
I smirked, trying to lighten the moment. “You too.”
He chuckled softly, but the weight of what lay ahead lingered between us.
As he turned to head toward the volcano’s heart, I watched him go, my heart hammering in my chest. There was no more room for hesitation. We had a war to win, and I would fight until my last breath to see it through.
The journey to gather our allies began at dawn. Each of us set out in different directions, carrying the weight of our mission. The fate of this war depended on our ability to convince the forgotten clans that their time of isolation had ended.