Chapter 7
Hosea stood in the war room, alone.
Maps stretched across the long oak table. Pins marked borders, sieges, shifting loyalties. His fingers hovered over a red-marked territory near the Valla-Aethelgar border.
Too close. Too soon.
Behind him, a shadow stirred.
"You're late," Hosea said.
The figure in the dark bowed low. His personal shadow guard—faceless, loyal, silent.
"I want eyes on Valla," Hosea murmured. "Not just the court. The Citadel. The temples. The streets."
The shadow said nothing.
"She's alive," Hosea whispered, more to himself than to his guard. "My sister. I know it. The witch said so."
The memory surfaced—bloody chains, a necklace, a whisper in the dark: "The gods see your pain."
He didn't believe in gods.
But he believed in vengeance.
---
In Valla
Alissa sat cross-legged in her room, candlelight flickering.
The sisters' vision haunted her. Every time she closed her eyes—fire. Screams. A throne in ruins.
A crownless girl standing in the ashes.
She stared at her wrist, where the blind one had touched her. It still tingled.
What did they see? What am I?
A knock broke her trance.
It was her brother, Alistair.
"May I come in?"
She nodded.
He stepped inside, setting a tray of tea on her table. "You've been quiet."
"I saw something."
He waited.
She didn't explain.
"Do you remember Mother?" she asked instead.
Alistair hesitated. "Only her voice."
"I wonder if she was like me."
Alistair stepped closer. "You are nothing like her."
"She died for magic. I might die for it too."
"No," he said firmly. "You won't."
She looked up, eyes wet. "Swear it."
"I swear," he said. "On my name. On my sword. On everything."
She leaned into his arms, and for a moment, the fire inside her quieted.
---
Elsewhere – Aethelgar
In a quiet chamber, Queen Esmeralda watched her son, Raymar, sleep.
Tommen stood in the doorway.
"He's still innocent," she whispered. "Not like the others."
Tommen's voice was tired. "None of us are innocent."
She turned. "You're hesitating about the girl."
"She's dangerous."
"She's useful."
He didn't answer.
Esmeralda walked to him. "Let me handle her. A gentle hand does what fear never can."
Tommen narrowed his eyes. "And if she burns like her mother?"
Esmeralda smiled. "Then we'll light the fire ourselves."