Page 18 of Beyond the Treaty
Her eyes narrow, assessing me, but she doesn’t protest. That’s sufficient for now. I turn, gesturing for her to take my hand so we can travel to Obsidia. She accepts it, and we dissolve into the shadows of the grove.
The crimson tome is tucked securely under my arm, its secrets burning like a brand against my ribs. I steal a glance atElara as we warp through the particles of the air, her head resting upon my chest. Her face is set, yet I see the turmoil still churning beneath her calm exterior. The Council has already taken so much from her: her trust, peace, and choices. They’ve shackled her fate to Kaelen’s, using the bond as a leash to keep them both in line.
My jaw tightens at the thought. The Council believes they can play gods, sacrificing lives like pieces on a board, feeding their magic with blood and power.
They made a mistake. They won’t see her coming, and they won’t know I will be by her side.
Flickering into existence, we arrive. “Welcome to my humble abode, Elara.” The air is silent around us; she has been through a lot in the past few days. She remains quiet, absorbing a realm she has never seen or visited before.
“You know, this isn’t just about you or Kaelen anymore,” I say as we move through the stillness, my voice breaking the silence. “The Council has been draining the realm for decades. Others are suffering like you, trapped in systems they didn’t choose. If we approach this correctly, we can stop them, for good.”
Elara’s gaze flickers to mine, and I see the spark of under- standing in her eyes. “Then let’s make it count.”
I nod, my steps steady. “We will.”
The path stretches ahead, dark and uncertain, yet I welcome it. I’ve spent too many years waiting in the shadows, searching for something to give me an edge against the Council. Now I have it: proof, fire, and Elara.
The Council’s hold may be extensive, but every system has
its cracks. Weaknesses.
And I will tear through every last one.
The moon hangs low as we move toward my keep, slipping
further into the night. A cold wind stirs through the trees, sharp and alive. I can feel it, change is coming. A storm is gathering, and we’re at its centre.
Let them hunt us. Let them send their guards, their assassins, their spies. It won’t matter. We’ll bring them to their knees.
We move silently through the darkness, each step heavy with the weight of what we’ve uncovered. The crimson tome presses against my side, its damning truth an ever-present burden, a dangerous thing to carry and an even more perilous thing to lose.
Elara walks beside me, quiet yet resolute. Her movements have no fear, but I can tell she’s unaccustomed to this type of flight, the careful, practised steps that leave no sound or trace. That will come with time, if time is something we can carve out for ourselves in this war.
The moon rises higher as we continue, its light filtering through the canopy in fractured streaks of silver. After an hour of steady travel, the forest begins to thin, revealing the familiar silhouette of my keep, hidden, weathered, but still standing.
I glance at Elara as we approach. The pale light briefly illumi- nates her face, her features hard and determined, yet weariness lingers just beneath the surface. She carries more than the burden of this truth; she bears the weight of everything, Kaelen, the bond, and the war we are about to wage.
But she does not falter. Not yet.
Good. We will need every ounce of her fire for what lies ahead.
I push open the heavy wooden door, which groans loudly in the stillness. The air inside the keep is cool, tinged with the faint scent of smoke and molten rock, familiar and grounding. I step aside, allowing Elara to enter first. She pauses just inside the threshold, surveying the space with cautious curiosity.
My keep is a monolith of obsidian and basalt, carved from the volcano’s heart. Its jagged spires pierce the smoke-choked sky, defying the fury of the world around it. Within these walls, molten rivers flow like veins of fire, their heat a constant presence, alive, breathing.
The light they cast flickers across the polished obsidianfloors, dancing in chaotic patterns that mimic the firestorm outside. It is a living, shifting fortress, a reflection of its master. A place where power is felt and seen, radiating in every molten glow, in every sharp line of shadow and stone.
It stands as a bastion of strength, forged in fire and fury. And here, I reign as king.
CHAPTER 12
Idrop the crimson tome onto the table with a heavy thud, the sound echoing like a proclamation in the quiet room. Elara flinches at the noise, but her gaze remains fixed on the book.
“Is this place yours?” she asks, finally breaking the silence. Her voice is soft but edged with exhaustion.
“For now,” I reply, unbuckling the straps of my cloak and tossing it over the back of a chair. “It’s hidden well enough. No one ventures out this far.”
She nods faintly and walks closer to the table. The moonlight filters through narrow windows, illuminating the tome’s crimson leather. It captures her attention like a beacon, or a curse.