Page 127 of Song of the Heart Scale
“Nice of you to finally throw a party!” he called over his shoulder.
“Save the quips for after we win!” I shouted back.
We pushed toward the inner wall.
Then came the second horn blast.
Uncle Bai’s signal. The wards were down.
The palace loomed ahead, shadowed and massive. I knew the corridors. I’d memorized the maps. Cat was in there.
I tore through another line of guards with a snarl, barely registering the pain blooming in my shoulder as a blade scraped my armor. I didn’t care. Nothing mattered until I reached her.
“Lord Mercer! Take the gate!”
The Nightwing Army surged forward. Flames licked across the walls. Arrows rained. Dragons flew overhead. And through it all, I kept moving, my vision narrowing to a single point:
Her.
Cat.
I was coming.
And Thorne was going to burn.
The clang of steel and roaring dragons echoed across the fields of Elaria.
Smoke curled into the sky like dark fingers clawing their way toward the sun and ash rained from above in thin, ghostly flurries. I stood on the rise of a scorched hill with my sword drawn, the twin flame mark on my forearm burning as if it had a heartbeat of its own. The wind carried the scent of fire and blood. War was no longer looming. It was here.
“They're moving into formation!” Jacob's voice came from my right, his armor gleaming beneath the overcast sky. He was already astride his black steed, his helm tucked under one arm, his expression grim.
I nodded. “Take a platoon to the eastern flank. Cut off any reinforcements coming from Dragon Valley. We can’t let them regroup.”
He offered a crisp salute. “Understood.”
Jacob had changed. The boy who once played war when I first met him ten years ago had grown into a man shaped by it. No longer the proud heir of a noble house, he was now one of the best soldiers under Lord Mercer’s command. Today, I trusted him with hundreds of lives.
“If Thorne sends in his winged guard, fall back into the trees. Use the terrain to your advantage.”
Jacob smirked. “You’re starting to sound like you care, Your Highness. I thought you’d stay mad at me about Arya.”
“I’m still mad, but I care about winning,” I said, though my voice lacked its usual frost. “Now go. And Jacob? Don’t die. She won’t forgive me if you do.”
He gave a brisk nod and turned, his horse thundering down the slope as Nightwing's cavalry followed him like shadows with blades.
Behind me, Uncle Bai approached with Garrick and Klaus in tow. The fae was draped in shimmering armor that didn’t look forged so much as woven from moonlight and starlight. He moved like a whisper, silent and dangerous.
“The wards have been brought down,” Garrick said, adjusting the straps of his breastplate. He still wore his signature grin, though it was tighter now, more forced. “Our magical support is in position. The fae will move when you give the word.”
Klaus yawned dramatically. “And here I thought war would be more thrilling. So far, it smells like burnt piss and sweaty leather.”
I didn't even blink. “Wait five more minutes. That’ll change.”
From the hill’s edge, we had an unimpeded view of Dragon Valley’s impressive gates—massive blackened stone carved into snarling dragon heads, flanked by Thorne’s crimson standards. The gates were sealed, but not for long. Inside, I knew Cat was trapped. Somewhere beyond that cold stone, she was either chained or worse.
But I would bring this realm to its knees before I let her remain there another day.
Uncle Bai handed me a piece of cloth. I looked down to see a piece of Cat’s dress, still holding her scent. Lavender and sunshine.
