Page 60 of The War of Four Winters

Battle mages were recovering from Daraith's spell, new guards pouring into the hall from adjacent corridors. But the chaos that followed Vinolia's destruction gave my companions the opening they needed. Daraith released another pulse of silver energy, clearing a path to the nearest exit.

Battle mages launched spells that exploded against the walls, sending stone fragments raining down. Through the dust and confusion, I saw my brothers fighting their way toward freedom. Katyr looked back once, his face a mask of agony. I smiled through the pain, willing him to understand. This was always the plan. One of us had to survive to lead what came next.

Tarathiel grabbed me by the throat, his sword at my chest. "Call them back or die here."

"They won't come," I wheezed. "And killing me defeats your purpose."

His eyes burned with fury but also calculation. He was already thinking ahead, already planning how to use my capture to his advantage. Public humiliation. Formal execution. All to prove his absolute power over those who dared defy him.

"You've lost them," I continued, blood dripping from my wounds to pool at our feet. "Even if you kill me, what I built continues. Katyr unites the Runecleavers now. Aryn commands the shadows. And Elindir..." I smiled through the pain. "Elindir will burn your world to ash to avenge me."

Doubt flickered in his eyes. Not fear, never that, but uncertainty. The realization that even in defeat, I had altered the game we'd played all these years.

"Take him!" Tarathiel commanded the guards who had finally fought their way to his side. "Secure him for transport to D'thallanar. The rebel king will face justice before the full Assembly."

They seized me roughly, uncaring of my wounds. Through the windows, I caught a glimpse of three figures racing across the courtyard toward the forest beyond. Freedom. They'd made it.

As the guards secured me, my thoughts drifted back to Elindir.Forgive me for going where you could not follow.

Mistclungtotheancient pines as we moved through the forest. Dawn was still an hour away, but we'd been walking since midnight, following game trails and streams to avoid the main roads. Five days had passed since our desperate leap from Homeshore's keep window. Five days eating what little we could hunt and scavenge, minimal fires, and constant vigilance as we pushed toward D'thallanar.

Today marked the twelfth day since I'd left Ruith at Calibarra's gates. I should have been returning to him by now, sailing home with news of peace negotiations or at least clearer intelligence about Michail's forces. Instead, I was moving deeper into danger, breaking my promise to return quickly. At night, when exhaustion finally claimed me, I dreamt of Ruith's face as he watched me board Captain Yisra's ship. The trust in his eyes. The faith that I would come back to him.

Every mile that carried me farther from Calibarra pulled at something in my chest, a physical ache that no amount of purpose could fully ease.

But this journey had to be made. The Assembly needed to hear directly what I'd witnessed in Homeshore. If they understood the true nature of Michail's crusade, perhaps some clans would shift their support from Tarathiel to Ruith. The civil war could end, and we could unite against the real enemy. If I failed, Michail's campaign would continue unchecked, and thousands more would die—including, eventually, Ruith himself.

The borrowed clothes we'd taken from a hunting lodge two days ago were wool and leather, sturdy but not made for winter journeying. Still, they were better than the salt-crusted, frozen garments we'd discarded after our swim through Homeshore's icy harbor.

I had no idea what had become of Captain Yisra or her ship. No way of knowing if Commander Caris and the Broken Blades had escaped Michail's forces, or if they'd been captured—or worse. The uncertainty gnawed at me. Had I led them all into a trap? Had Yisra's loyal service to House Starfall ended in her death?

"Hold," Niro whispered, raising his fist.

I froze instantly, sinking to one knee beside him, straining to hear what had caught his attention. For several heartbeats, there was nothing but the soft patter of melting snow falling from branches and the distant call of a morning bird.

Then I heard it. Voices, still distant but drawing closer. Human voices.

Niro tilted his head, ears catching nuances my human hearing missed. "Two, maybe three," he murmured. "And something else. An animal?"

I nodded, already calculating. We couldn't afford an encounter, not this close to our goal. D'thallanar lay just three days' journey ahead if we maintained our pace. The Assembly would be gathering now, preparing for their winter session.

"We should avoid them," I whispered, gesturing to a dense thicket to our right. "Circle around, keep moving."

But Niro hesitated, his face troubled in the fading moonlight. "Something feels wrong," he said.

The voices grew clearer. A man laughed, then another's response. They didn't sound like soldiers on patrol. Their casual tone suggested travelers, perhaps merchants, though what legitimate business would bring anyone to these woods remained a question.

"Wait here," I told Niro, already rising.

He caught my arm, his grip like iron. "Absolutely not."

"They're human," I countered, keeping my voice low. "They'll be less suspicious of me approaching alone. I can find out who they are, why they're here."

"And if they're Michail's scouts? Or bandits taking advantage of the chaos?" Niro's dark eyes held mine. "I won't risk—"

"Pull your hood forward," I interrupted. "In this light, with your ears covered, they'll never know you're elven. We'll approach together, two travelers lost in the woods."

For a moment, I thought he would refuse. Then a tight smile touched his lips. "You've grown bolder since Homeshore," he observed. "Very well. But at the first sign of trouble—"

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