The letter arrived at dawn, carried by a rider whose horse bore the white-streaked foam of hard travel and harder orders.
Aya was already awake when the guard announced the ssenger. Sleep had beco a careful negotiation these past weeks - never quite absent, never fully restful. She accepted the sealed parchnt in the small solar adjoining her chambers, where morning light filtered through narrow windows and laid pale gold across the table.
She did not need to read the seal to know whose hand had sent it.
Her Brother, Lord Commander Elex, never wrote without purpose.
Aya broke the wax with a thumb, unfolding the letter in one smooth motion. Her eyes moved quickly at first, then slowed, then stilled.
For a long mont, she did not breathe.
Behind her, Bason shifted from his place near the hearth, sensing the stillness that had fallen too sharply over the room. The great dog huffed once, low and questioning.
Aya read the letter again. Slower this ti. Each word placed deliberately, as if her brother stood before her speaking them aloud.
No confird sightings of Prince Dane. No banners. No scouts captured bearing his colors. No prisoners able or willing to speak of his movents.
The western territories had been secured. The southern borders stabilized. Even the eastern trade roads now moved freely again under Peduviel escort.
And yet.
No trace of Dane.
Not dead. Not captured. Not fled across any known border.
Simply... gone.
Aya folded the parchnt carefully, far more carefully than necessary, and only then realized how tightly her fingers had begun to tremble.
His absence and silence continued to bother her.
He is still within the Northern territories. Biding his ti?
The thought arrived fully ford.
Recognition.
Warriors or princes like Dane did not vanish. They repositioned.
She rose at once, the hem of her robe whispering over stone. "Have the King inford that I am requesting for his presence," she told the guard waiting beyond the door. "At his convenience."
The guard bowed and left at once.
Aya remained standing, letter still in hand, her gaze fixed on the morning light crawling slowly across the table. It felt too peaceful. Too composed. As if the world itself wished to pretend the worst had passed.
It had not.
It was simply... waiting.
Killan arrived in a matter of minutes, as he always did when the matter concerned her directly. He dismissed the attendants with a quiet gesture before crossing the room, his eyes already searching her face.
"You received word," he said. "From your brothers?"
Aya handed him the letter.
He read it in silence.
Once. Then again.
His jaw tightened only slightly, but she saw it. She always did.
"No sightings at all?" he asked at last.
"None confird," Aya replied. "My brother believes he is neither retreating nor scattered."
Killan exhaled slowly, folding the letter and placing it back on the table between them as though it were a blade best kept visible.
"He is gathering strength," he said.
Aya t his gaze. "Yes."
The word hung between them, heavy with implications neither of them needed to na aloud. They had both commanded armies long enough to understand what absence ant more often than defeat.
Silence settled, but it was not the quiet of peace.
It was the quiet of commanders recalculating a battlefield that had rely shifted out of sight.
"The court believes the war ended with Maric," Killan said after a mont.
"They are not entirely wrong," Aya replied. "That war did end."
She rested her hand lightly on the parchnt.
"But another may be preparing to begin."
Killan studied her then, more closely than before. "You expected this."
"I feared it," Aya corrected softly. "Expectation would imply certainty. This is... sothing else entirely."
He nodded once. He did not dismiss instincts lightly. Not hers. Not anymore.
"We will not alarm the court yet," he said. "Not until we have more than absence to present as proof."
Aya inclined her head in agreent. "My brothers will continue the search. I will request more detailed reports on supply movents in the western territories. If Dane is rebuilding, he will need food, arms, and n. Those leave traces even when banners do not."
Killan’s mouth curved faintly at that. "You are already planning for the next war."
"I am planning for the possibility of one," Aya replied. "There is a difference."
He accepted that without argunt. He always did when she spoke from this place - clear, asured, frighteningly calm.
For a mont longer, neither of them spoke.
Then Killan said quietly, "You should rest after the council tonight. You have not fully recovered from the last campaign and here you are, courting exhaustion again."
Aya opened her mouth to dismiss the concern.
The world tilted.
It was not dramatic. Not visible enough to be called a collapse. Just a sudden, sharp pressure behind her eyes, as if a dozen distant voices had spoken her na at once.
Her breath caught.
For an instant, she was not in the solar at all.
She was on a battlefield that no longer existed. Hearing screams that had long since fallen silent. Feeling the surge of power she had unleashed - bright, terrible, absolute - echoing back through her body as if it had never truly left.
Blood. Steel. Silver light. Seth’s voice calling her na. Killan shouting orders sowhere beyond the haze.
Then it was gone.
Aya’s hand tightened on the edge of the table.
"Aya."
Killan’s voice cut through the echo like a blade through cloth.
She blinked, vision snapping back into place. The solar. The table. The letter.
The floor seed to tilt beneath her feet.
Killan closed the distance in a single step.
His hand caught her forearm first - firm, grounding - before sliding upward to steady her by the shoulders. The warmth of him cut through the lingering chill that had wrapped around her spine. Not tentative. Not distant.
Certain.
"Aya."
Her na was low, urgent now.
She inhaled sharply, the world settling back into its proper shape beneath the solid pressure of his hands. His thumb pressed lightly against her sleeve as though reassuring himself she was truly there.
"I’m here," he said.
It was not a question.
The echoes receded fully at the sound of his voice.
Aya swallowed, drawing one controlled breath after another until the ringing in her ears faded to silence. Only then did she realize how tightly she had been gripping the edge of the table.
"It passed," she managed.
Killan did not release her imdiately.
His eyes searched her face, not for weakness, but for fracture.
"What was it?" he asked, quieter now.
Aya steadied herself beneath his touch before gently easing back, though his hands remained at her arms a heartbeat longer than necessary.
"I am not certain," she admitted. "It felt like mory. But sharper. Louder. As though I had been pulled backward into it. The kind I used to see and feel when I draw mory from blood. Now, it seems like I don’t need to touch blood to..."
His jaw tightened, concern no longer hidden.
"And this has happened before?"
She hesitated.
"Not like that."
Killan’s grip softened but did not vanish entirely. As though so instinct in him refused to risk her slipping away, even to sothing unseen.
"We will speak with Master Dino," he said. Not a suggestion. Decision.
Aya did not argue.
But even as she stood there, steady once more beneath his hands, she could still feel the faintest afterimage of power humming beneath her skin.
"He warned that releasing the seal might cause echoes," Aya said. "Sensory impressions tied to the power itself. He did not know how frequently they would occur."
Killan’s gaze lingered on her a mont longer. "And do you?"
Aya shook her head once.
"No."
The admission tasted like iron.
He did not press further. Not here. Not where walls had ears and servants moved just beyond the doors. Instead, he inclined his head slightly toward the letter.
"We will speak of this later," he said. "Privately."
Aya nodded, grateful and unsettled in equal asure.
They would not show weakness to the court. Not fear. Not uncertainty.
That, at least, remained unchanged.
Council that evening passed without incident.
Aya spoke clearly, issued orders calmly, and did not allow the earlier episode to touch her voice or posture. If anything, she appeared sharper than usual, her thoughts moving with a clarity that impressed even the most skeptical southern lords.
No one remarked on the slight pallor beneath her composure.
No one dared.
But as she and Killan walked the battlents afterward, the night air cool against their skin, the silence between them felt more deliberate than ever before.
"You truly do not know what is happening to you," Killan said at last.
Aya’s hands rested lightly on the stone parapet. Below, Athax slept in orderly rows of torchlight and shadow.
"No," she said. "I do not."
She drew in a slow breath.
"Master Dino’s journals speak of Blood Summoners only in fragnts. Power, yes. Influence. Devotion from those bound to them. But lifespan..." She paused. "That section was largely conjecture."
Killan did not move. "Conjecture of what kind?"
Aya’s gaze remained on the horizon.
"That they did not live long," she said simply.
The wind shifted, tugging at the loose strands of her hair. For a mont, she looked almost fragile in the dim light - less queen, more woman, standing alone against sothing too vast to na.
Killan’s hand tightened on the stone.
"And you believe the sa applies to you?" he asked.
"I do not know what applies to ," Aya replied. "There has never been another who released her power in the midst of an active war and survived it."
She finally turned to face him.
"I am not afraid of dying by it," she added, voice steady. "I am afraid of what it would do to the people bound to ."
Seth. Her brothers. The soldiers who now looked to her as sothing more than mortal.
And her husband, of course, the one who mattered most.
Killan held her gaze for a long mont. "You dismiss this publicly."
"Yes."
"And privately?"
Aya’s silence answered for her.
The torches along the wall flickered once, as though responding to a pulse only she could feel.
"I will not let it rule ," she said at last. "Fear is useful only when it sharpens action. Beyond that, it becos indulgence."
Killan studied her profile, the silver hint in her eyes catching the low light.
"Then let us hope that this ti, it will be different and we’ll be able to find out more," he said quietly.
Aya did not deny the relief from his words.
Below them, the city remained calm. Peaceful. Believing itself safe.
Above, the sky stretched vast and indifferent, hiding whatever forces gathered beyond sight.
Aya rested her hands more firmly on the stone, steadying herself against another faint tremor of mory threatening at the edges of her mind.
The past continued to echo inside her.
And sowhere beyond the borders of their fragile peace, an unseen enemy was likely doing the sa, waiting, gathering, preparing for the mont the world would once again be forced to rember that power, once awakened, never truly returned to sleep.
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