Chapter 22 – The Fire Gathers
The return to Whitehearth was met with whispers.
Jean rode at the head of her growing force—no longer merely a candidate for succession, but a beacon. At her side strode Kael, wind whispering through his cloak, his broken spear now reforged into a weapon etched with runes that shimmered in the sunlight.
The storm had come with them.
Sylas, watching from the upper spires, narrowed his eyes as wind bent the banners toward Jean's arrival.
"Interesting," he murmured.
Beneath him, spies whispered of Jean's ascent—of her divine aura's awakening and the gathering of allies once believed scattered or broken.
In the training fields, Jean's knights sharpened blades and bound armor. The Trial by Fire was more than a battle—it was a declaration. The winner would take the lion's share of the Clan's forces into the coming age. The loser would be exiled... or buried.
Cassien handed Jean a sealed report. "Scouts spotted Sylas's army already near Luthmere. Mercenaries. Outer House retainers. He's calling in debts, buying loyalty."
Jean read the report and nodded. "Then we'll break more than his blade."
Kael approached her later that night, watching the stars above the old courtyard.
"Do you believe you'll win?" he asked.
Jean responded, "I don't believe. I will. Because I'm not fighting for the throne. I'm fighting to make sure the world survives long enough to see one."
Kael gave her a rare smile. "Spoken like an Emissary."
From within the great hall, Silvia watched from shadowed pillars. She said nothing.
But as Jean left the courtyard, she stepped forward and whispered to the wind:
"She's ready now, Father. Ready for what comes after this war."
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