Page 121 of Ashes to Ashes

“The ONLY,” the Will-o’-wisp corrects with cheerful pride that makes nearby flowers bloom out of season. “Soul-keeper to the royal Moonshadow line. Bound by oaths older than your courts, deeper than your politics, stronger than your fears.”

Faculty members in the observation galleries gasp audibly, their understanding of magical history rewriting itself in real-time. Students crane their necks for better views of something that exists in textbooks as legend rather than living fact.

The political implications hit like earthquake tremors—if one extinct species survived the court wars, what else might their carefully maintained intelligence have gotten catastrophically wrong?

Master Valeborn’s face goes pale. “By the ancient powers... you are actually real.”

“Oh yes,” the Will-o’-wisp says, blue light dancing with delight that makes Academy wards pulse in recognition of older magics. “Very, very real. And very, very protective of my root-thorn.”

Status confirmed,I respond through the shadow-link, though the words feel like molten copper coating my throat as I fight my father’s compulsion with everything I have. Fighting royal command makes my entire nervous system scream in protest, blood flowing faster as psychic pressure increases.Target located and assessed. Complications have... evolved.

But something fundamental has fractured in my chest—three hundred years of perfect obedience cracking. For the first time since childhood, I’m planning active disobedience to direct royal command.

The realization should terrify me. Instead, oxygen floods my lungs like I’ve been drowning for centuries and finally reached the surface.

“Prince Kieran?” Lady Amarantha’s voice sharpens with suspicion as she notes the way blood continues flowing from my face, how frost patterns spell out words of rebellion in ancient script. “You seem... distracted.”

“Court business,” I reply smoothly, though magical control continues fragmenting under internal war between duty and choice. “Royal communications require careful attention.”

“Of course.” Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes as she calculates whether I’m still reliable asset or potential threat. “And the outcome of those communications?”

This is it. The moment that defines not just my future, but hers. The moment I choose between everything I’ve been trained to be and everything I might become if I have the courage to forge a different path.

My shadows writhe with anticipation as centuries of royal conditioning clash against something stronger—recognition that some people are worth more than political position.

“Until twilight,” I announce, voice carrying princely authority despite the revolution happening in my soul. Ice crystallizes in the air around me as power responds to emotionalupheaval, frost forming geometric patterns that spell out ancient words of protection. “The Academy will have until twilight to resolve this situation through appropriate diplomatic channels.”

It’s not compliance. It’s defiance disguised as negotiation—betting her freedom on my ability to find the impossible solution she’d believe in.

Because some people are worth more than twenty years of sacrifice.

Some people are worth the risk of losing everything.

“Until twilight for what, precisely?” Lord Malachar demands, shadows probing mine for signs of deception or weakness.

“For the Academy to determine its position regarding guest faculty protection,” I reply with diplomatic precision that reveals nothing while implying everything. Blood continues trickling down my face as I hold the psychic connection open without complying with its demands.

Master Valeborn’s eyes narrow slightly—recognizing political maneuvering but not its direction, noting how Academy wards respond differently to my presence now.

“Very reasonable,” Lady Amarantha purrs, though suspicion flickers in her violet gaze as she processes implications. “Though one hopes resolution will be... satisfactory to all parties concerned.”

“Indeed,” I agree, shadows coiling around my ankles like supportive chains as ancient magic recognizes choice freely made. “Most satisfactory.”

As the delegations retreat to establish temporary camps on Academy grounds—siege positions that make their true intentions clear—I turn to find Ash watching me with uncomfortable intensity. The Will-o’-wisp hovers beside her shoulder, blue light pulsing with what looks like approval.

“What did they want?” she asks quietly, power crackling beneath her skin in response to continued threat.

“To take you away,” I reply with brutal honesty. “To break you down and remake you as something... useful.”

Her face pales, but her jaw sets with familiar determination that makes my chest tight with something that might be pride. Around her, reality bends slightly as power responds to her emotional state—flowers blooming out of season, stones humming with recognition.

“And what did you tell them?”

“That they have until twilight to discover exactly how much trouble they are in.”

The answer surprises her—and if I’m honest, it surprises me too. My shadows dance with something that might be joy as I realize I’ve just committed myself to a course that could cost Kestra everything.

But for the first time in twenty years, the choice feels like hope rather than fear.

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