Page 22 of Magic Undaunted

Nine

STRYKER

Stryker stood at the edge of the fae realm, his eyes fixed on the distant glow of Celestia. The capital shimmered beneath the eternal twilight, its gleaming spires reaching toward the heavens, a symbol of power and authority. But now, as Stryker stared at it, all he could see were the cracks beneath the surface—the corruption that rotted the Council from within. The weight of what they had uncovered in the ancient library and the enormity of the task that lay ahead was almost overwhelming.

They had to stop Lord Oberon, and they had to stop the human mage.

Behind him, the group moved quietly, the tension palpable. Lirael and Finnian exchanged whispered plans, their expressions grim. The stakes had never been higher. If they failed, the fae realm wouldn’t just be in danger—it would unravel. And yet, amid the tension, Stryker’s focus kept drifting back to Elyria.

She stood apart from the others, her gray eyes locked on Celestia’s distant glow. Her face was a stoic mask, but he could see the strain in her posture. They had fought side by side more than once, and today had been like slipping into an old rhythm—dangerous, but familiar. And now, with the heart of the fae realm looming before them, he couldn’t help but feel the pull between them.

He needed her to trust him. And he wasn’t sure she did.

“You’re quiet,” Elyria said softly, stepping up beside him. Her voice was low, almost cautious, as if she wasn’t sure where they stood.

Stryker glanced at her, his heart pounding. The closeness between them sent a surge of heat through him, but now wasn’t the time to let those feelings distract him. “Just thinking.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly. “Thinking about how to smuggle rebels into the heart of Celestia?”

“That, and more,” he admitted. “Oberon won’t go down easily. We’ll need more than just proof of his complicity with the mage. We’ll need to turn the right people against him.”

Elyria’s gaze sharpened. “You mean betray your old comrades?”

Stryker clenched his jaw, his stomach twisting at the thought. The High Council had been his life—his purpose—for centuries. Oberon had been more than just a ruler; he had been a mentor, a figure Stryker had once admired. But now, after everything, that admiration had soured into something bitter.

“They’ve already betrayed us,” he said quietly. “The Council has been sacrificing their people for power. Even if they don’t know for certain, they have willingly turned a blind eye. This has to end.”

Elyria watched him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. “You think they’ll believe you? You think they’ll side with us?”

Stryker shook his head. “Not all of them. But there are those in the Council who’ve had their doubts, who’ve seen the cracks in Oberon’s rule. If we can get to them, we have a chance.”

She exhaled softly, her eyes flickering with something he couldn’t quite place. “And what about us, Stryker? Are we on the same side now?”

His chest tightened at her words, the raw vulnerability beneath her question slicing through him. He turned to face her fully, his gaze locking with hers. “We’re on the same side, Elyria. I should have been with you from the beginning.”

Her lips parted, her breath catching, but before she could respond, Finnian’s voice interrupted them.

“We need to move,” he called, his tone urgent.

Stryker nodded, breaking the charged moment between them. The time for confessions would have to wait; they had a realm to save.

The journey back to Celestia should have been fraught with danger, but Stryker’s position as a warrior for the High Council allowed them to slip past the outer defenses with minimal trouble. The real challenge lay ahead—navigating the treacherous political landscape of the Council itself.

As they entered the city, Stryker felt the familiar pulse of magic that thrummed through the streets, the gleaming crystal spires reflecting the eternal twilight in a kaleidoscope of colors. Everything looked the same—perfect, unchanging—but Stryker knew better now. The city was a façade, hiding the rot beneath.

They moved in the shadows, slipping through the hidden passages known only to those who had spent years in Celestia’s service. Stryker led them with a quiet authority, his mind racing with the plans he would need to set in motion. There were those in the Council who could be swayed—old comrades whohad shown signs of doubt, mentors who had once questioned Oberon’s increasingly ruthless decisions.

But every step they took brought them closer to danger. Any wrong move, any betrayal, and they would be exposed.

As they neared the grand hall of the High Council, Stryker felt a surge of anxiety. This was it—the moment where everything could either fall apart or come together. He motioned for the group to stop and spoke, his voice low. “We’ll split up. I’ll go in alone first. I need to speak to a few people.”

Finnian frowned, clearly uneasy. “Are you setting us up?”

“No,” said Elyria. “If anything, he’s giving us time to escape if anything goes wrong.”

“I know who to talk to,” Stryker said, his gaze moving between Elyria and Finnian. “But I need you to trust me.”

Elyria studied him, her eyes searching his for a long moment before she nodded. “We do. Just don’t get yourself killed.”

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