The first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, casting a pale glow across the city’s outskirts. It had been a brutal night, hours of fighting and scrambling, but we’d come out on top. I’d be the first to admit luck had played a big part. Stumbling on the troll camp south of Tyre had been a gift. They clearly hadn’t mastered the concept of camp safety. When we arrived, it was practically deserted, tents flapping in the wind, and setting it ablaze felt like child’s play. A few torches tossed into the dry canvas, and the whole place went up in a satisfying roar of flame.

  They’d tried to take it back, of course. We’d expected that much. Unfortunately for them, their forces were scattered, probably stretched thin across the siege lines, so instead of one crushing wave, we faced three disjointed attacks. I almost pitied their lack of tactics. Defense usually ranks up there with offense in any decent battle plan; some even argue it’s the backbone of victory. Our success proved that tonight. Holding firm, letting them crash against us, and picking them apart. Still, their sloppy coordination didn’t make me feel smug, just tired.

  Even with my ordinary eyes from this distance, the city looked like a ruin. The wall was more rubble than structure, jagged gaps yawning where stone had held days ago. I spotted one section that had collapsed entirely, a heap of debris spilling outward signs of the defenders’ efforts to close the gap. But trolls camping outside told me we’d reached Tyre in time. The damage looked bad, but not beyond saving. I could only hope Alira had kept it together inside, that the cost wasn’t too steep.

  I tried again to open a portal to her villa, focusing hard, picturing the dining room’s worn table. Nothing happened. No shimmer, no rift. I’d tested other destinations these past two weeks, and they’d worked fine, but Tyre stayed locked to me. Frustration deepened, and out of curiosity more that anything, I shifted my focus to the desert. Again, nothing. I picked another region and still, the air stayed stubbornly solid. The pieces clicked, a cold realization settling in. Someone had suppressed portal formation, blanketing the area. It made sense, in a grim way. Cut off escapes for leaders, trap everyone inside. Useful for a siege, sure, but it chilled me.

  This wasn’t good. Until now, I had stayed relatively stress free because I knew escape was a portal away. If someone could strip that away, I’d have to rethink everything. No more winging it, no more reckless leaps. I’d need real plans, and that wasn’t my strong suit. My gut twisted at the thought, but I shook it off. No time for that now. Finding Alira was the priority, and without portaling in, I’d have to approach the walls the old-fashioned way.

  I considered another lightning bolt skyward, our little signal, a private joke with Alira. Elena might recognize it too. But I hesitated. To untrained eyes, it’d look too much like a troll shaman’s spell, all flash and menace. The last thing Tyre needed was me sparking panic after a night like that.

  I couldn’t just stroll up to Tyre’s walls with the necromancer contingent trailing behind me. That would stir up a hornet’s nest of tension, risking the fragile reprieve we’d clawed out for the city. Malachor’s leaders, Alira included, were already on edge about these desert allies, and parading them to the gate would snap the thin thread of trust we’d bought with blood and fire. So I waited, pacing the scorched earth near the smoldering troll camp, my boots kicking up ash. They had to have seen the flames from the walls. Someone would come, an emissary at least.

  Kadan’s voice broke my thoughts, pulling me around to face him. “We’ve finished interrogating one of the surviving trolls,” he said, his tone clipped but steady. He’d surprised me these past weeks. A capable leader despite his initial disdain, those early glares he’d shot my way softening into a grudging respect. We’d carved out a working rhythm, even if it wasn’t warm.

  “I don’t want to know,” I said, catching the flicker of confusion in his eyes. I waved a hand to clear it up. “About the gruesome details, I mean. The rest, go ahead.” My stomach wasn’t squeamish, but I’d seen enough gore tonight without adding torture tales to the mix.

  He smiled, a thin, unsettling curve that still sent a shiver down my spine. “This was their main camp,” he said. “No secondary one exists. They’re scattered now.”

  “Perfect,” I said, relief edging in. “Will they regroup with Ascalon?”

  “He hated all humans, Ascalonians included,” Kadan replied, tilting his head. “Maybe that’s why their camps are separate.”

  “Anything else?” I pressed, leaning forward.

  “He didn’t know much,” he said. “But we took our time with him, just to be sure.” His casual tone creeping me out even more.

  That was on me, really. I’d thought the necromancers were misunderstood. Outcasts with creepy powers, sure, but not cruel at their core. Living with them these weeks had peeled back that illusion. They had a streak of brutality I hadn’t expected, a cold edge that showed in moments like this. I’d worried Malachor wouldn’t accept them, but now I saw the reverse was true. They would think Malachor had gone soft. More that a hundred years in the desert had forged a culture too alien, too hardened. Malvina stood out as an exception, a rebel in her own right. Rebels reject norms, even defy them, and her seeming normalcy, her willingness to talk, to bridge gaps, made her the odd one out here.

  They tolerated me because they feared me. I saw it in their eyes, that awe tinged with fear. But I wasn’t one of them. They had their morning food ritual, a quiet gathering I was never invited to, even after this victory. I ate alone, the silence louder than their chants. If I squinted, they had more in common with the trolls, clannish, unyielding than with me or Malachor.

  A scout jogged up, breathless. “Someone’s approaching from the city,” he said.

  “Finally,” I muttered.

  ─── ????? ───

  The meeting wrapped up quickly, and soon we were being escorted to face the triumviri. I knew they were technically a council, but I couldn’t resist thinking of them as the triumviri. The name had a ring I loved too much to let go. What I didn’t like was knowing I’d see Alira and have to keep it all stiff and professional. My chest tightened at the thought. Weeks apart, and I’d have to play the diplomat instead of just embracing her like I wanted.

  As we approached the council room’s heavy doors, I turned to Kadan, keeping my voice low. “Remember, two of them might be prickly. Throw in the siege’s pressure, and they could snap. Try not to take it personally, please.”

  Kadan’s face darkened, but his tone stayed even. “We saved them. If they can’t muster some manners now, this whole effort’s pointless.”

  I guess he wasn’t wrong to expect a little gratitude. Nodding as the doors swung open, my eyes found Alira instantly. Protocol be damned. I strode straight to her, pulled her up from her chair, and wrapped her in a hug, her warmth flooding through me. “Missed you,” I said, my voice rough with relief.

  “Not enough for even a hello,” she replied, half-joking, but I caught the edge beneath it. It had occurred to me that while it was frustrating for me not being able to contact her from her perspective, it was a hundred times worse. A losing siege without knowing if the reinforcements would arrive or not. That amount of stress can’t be healthy.

  The room’s eyes were on us, but I couldn’t leave her simmering. I leaned in, whispering, “They found a way to block portal travel.” Her eyes widened, the anger melting from her face, replaced by understanding. “Sorry,” she murmured, and I squeezed her hand, wishing I could say more.

  An aide cleared his throat, loud and rude, a blatant nudge. Audemar’s voice followed, smooth but impatient. “Can you introduce us to our guest?”

  I nodded, stepping back to the table, and made the introductions as we sat. Torvyn stood, his grizzled face softening slightly. “Thank you for your help,” he said. “It couldn’t have been easy getting here so fast. We’re in your debt.” His words caught me off guard, and Kadan blinked, clearly surprised too. Maybe they could manage civility after all.

  Kadan inclined his head, his creepy smile flickering. “Thank you for your kind words. I realize our history is complicated, but we share a common enemy. We should focus on that.”

  “I fully agree,” Audemar cut in, his tone brisk but aligned.

  I leaned forward, eager to get this meeting moving. “How’s the situation developing? We didn’t have time to scout beyond the camp.”

  Alira smiled, stepping in with confidence. “The trolls scattered, but they’re converging northeast. No new camp’s forming yet. Ascalon’s soldiers pulled back from the west and are holding in their camp.”

  Good news, for once. I straightened, a spark of optimism flaring. “They might actually decide to leave.”

  Torvyn grunted, skeptical. “I doubt it’ll be that easy.”

  Kadan spoke up, his voice calm. “Besides our force here, we’ve started raids along the troll border. News will reach them eventually.”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  With the flood of good news, the council had time to drift into political waters, namely the alliance. I’ll admit my focus wasn’t razor-sharp. Alira sat across from me, her eyes catching the light, her lips curving just enough to pull my attention away from the debate. I couldn’t tune out everything, though, especially when the discussion hit a snag she’d warned me about: the concessions she’d made for the necromancers, including a new city outside the desert.

  Torvyn leaned forward, his grizzled brow furrowing. “We thought it’d be closer to the desert, but the spot you’re describing sits in our territory,” he said, his tone edging toward suspicion.

  Kadan didn’t flinch, his voice calm but firm. “We need it near a river. That location is the closest a permanent river runs to our territory.” His point made sense. Water was life, especially for a people used to scraping by in sand.

  Audemar jumped in, his polished voice carrying a hint of challenge. “There’ll be plenty of settlements along that river.”

  “We’ll steer clear of them,” Kadan replied, unruffled, his eerie calm holding steady.

  The talk spiraled from there, both sides piling on requests—trade rights, borders, promises—and I could tell it’d stretch on for hours. I’d done my part, gotten them this far, so I stood, stretching slightly. “Excuse me,” I said, nodding to the room. To my delight, Alira rose too, murmuring her own polite exit. Even she had a breaking point for haggling over trade routes, it seemed.

  She led me out of the palace. It spared the worst of the siege, though its cracked walls hinted at the strain. We stepped into Tyre’s streets, the afternoon sun casting long shadows over the rubble. The air smelled of smoke and dust, a gritty reminder of the fight, but walking beside her felt like a weight lifting. I kept pace, our shoulders brushing, and for a moment, it was just us—no councils, no wars.

  “You scared me,” she said, her voice soft but firm, glancing at me sidelong. “Two weeks, no word.” She trailed off, and I caught the flicker of fear she’d buried.

  “Trust me, I tried,” I said, kicking a loose stone. “Guess I’m stuck doing things the hard way now.”

  She laughed, a short, bright sound that warmed me. “You planning ahead? I’ll believe it when I see it.” Her tease pulled me back to our old rhythm, the quips we’d traded before everything went sideways. I nudged her arm, and she nudged back, a silent truce after the strain.

  But as we walked, I couldn’t ignore the city’s scars. The walls loomed ahead, or what was left of them. Crumbling heaps of stone, patched with hasty repairs, barely standing. “The walls took a beating,” I said, nodding toward a collapsed section, rubble spilling into the street.

  She sighed, her smile fading. “Seriously damaged,” she said. “We held them off, but it’s more gaps than wall now. One good push, and it’s over.” Her voice dipped, heavy with the cost. I glanced at her, seeing the lines exhaustion had etched around her eyes, and my chest tightened.

  “At least the alliance is going well,” I said, my voice light, grasping at the sliver of good amidst the mess.

  She looked at me, her expression darkening, and shook her head. “Believe me, they’re not happy about it. It’s basically the only thing they agree on. This will turn ugly soon.”

  We passed a market square, usually bustling, now eerily quiet. Empty stalls stood abandoned, a few crates overturned. “Food stores are low too,” she added, catching my look. “People will soon be hungry, and we’ll get refugees pouring in from the outskirts if the siege lifts. No harvests coming soon either, not with the fields torched.”

  I winced, memories of traveling to Meteora fresh in my mind. “Casualties?” I asked, dreading the answer.

  “High,” she said, her tone flat, like she’d numbed herself to it. “It rained fireballs for two weeks. But our biggest problem is the Church of the Light. No new healers are being anointed because of what we did. They think it’s their fault, not believing enough or some nonsense. Disease is next if we don’t get help.” She stopped, staring at a burned-out husk of a house, and I reached for her hand, threading my fingers through hers. “We’ll figure it out,” I said, squeezing gently.

  “You’re right,” she said, her voice steady despite the weariness. “Things might look bleak, but we survived. We should focus on the positives, on the people.” She paused mid-step, her brow furrowing as if a thought had snagged her. Then her face softened. “I know. There’s someone who’s been waiting for you to visit.”

  I tilted my head, puzzled. Her mood had lifted so fast it threw me, dark clouds parting in minutes. “Who exactly are we visiting?” I asked, curiosity tugging at me. I had no clue who she meant, and my mind raced through possibilities. Some soldier, a friend, someone from the fight?

  She grinned, a rare glimmer of mischief lighting her up. “It’s a surprise,” she said, picking up her pace.

  We wound through Tyre’s battered streets, our steps synced, boots crunching over shattered stone, and I let myself relax into her presence.

  We turned down a narrow lane, and Alira led me to a weathered building. A two-story shelter, its walls pocked from stray blasts but standing firm. In the courtyard teenagers were playing, or was it training? It seemed very rhythmic and organized. As I got a closer look, I saw someone creating a small fire and trying to throw it as a fireball. It fizzle out and didn’t reach its target. So a magic school of sorts.

  Before I could study them further, a girl launched herself into Alira’s arms with the unrestrained energy only a teenager could muster.

  “You came!” she exclaimed. “Everyone here is so worried. They say we have to abandon the city.” The last words drained some of her excitement, her smile faltering.

  She looked familiar. But I couldn’t place her.

  “Nobody’s abandoning anything,” Alira said firmly, and the girl’s grin returned in full force. Then she turned to me, her eyes widening in recognition while I still struggled to remember. She froze, lips parted, and for a moment, I worried I’d upset her by not knowing.

  Then it hit me. I hadn’t recognized her because I’d never seen her smile before.

  Now, with tears glistening on her cheeks, I did. Even though she looked entirely different. No longer gaunt, taller, her dark hair a wild tangle.

  “Nadia?” I asked, still uncertain.

  “You remembered my name?” Her voice trembled before she threw herself at me.

  “Of course,” I said, hugging her back. “I just didn’t recognize you. You look… healthy. And taller.” I ruffled her hair as she stepped away, practically bouncing.

  “I learned my first spell!” she announced, beaming.

  “Already?”

  “Yes! Want to see?”

  “Show me what you got,” I said with a smile.

  She wove her hands in a familiar motion, conjuring food. A loaf of bread materialized in her palm. “It’s not very tasty,” she admitted. “But we conjure as much as we can. They say it helps the city.”

  “Every resource helps,” Alira said. “You’ve done more than you know.”

  Nadia turned back to me, eyes bright. “Alira said you’d teach me a spell.”

  “Did she?” I chuckled, glancing at Alira, who rolled her eyes.

  “This you remember,” she said, exasperated. “An offhand comment from months ago, but when I tell you to pay attention in class, it’s instantly forgotten.”

  “Because they don’t teach spells! It’s all history lessons and waving our hands in the air,” Nadia grumbled.

  “We’ve talked about this,” Alira said patiently. “Yes, school can be boring, but there’s a process to it.”

  It struck me then. Alira had been coming here. Regularly, by the looks of it. The ease between them, the way she spoke to Nadia. It was almost maternal.

  “But you promised a spell,” Nadia pressed, eyes locked on me.

  I sighed in mock defeat. “Well, if I promised…”

  “Yes!” She punched the air. “I want to cast lightning bolts like you!”

  I laughed. “Let’s start with something more… age-appropriate. How about a wind spell?”

  While her initial exuberance began to dim after I started with the theory behind atmosphere interactions. I couldn’t blame her. I’d jumped straight into the dry stuff, the kind of lecture that’d made me yawn as a kid. Still, she stuck with me, her eyes locked on mine, soaking up every word even as I stumbled through it. She didn’t have much groundwork to lean on, but I tried to keep it simple.

  It did help when I mentioned hand gestures were more about helping you focus on an action than actual parts of any spell. Then she got it. Her hands moved, hesitant at first, imitating the movement of air I’d shown her, and a breeze kicked up, ruffling her tangled hair. Small, shaky, but real. Her face lit up, pride radiating off her, and something warm swelled in my chest, mirroring it.

  I hadn’t expected that. Seeing her beam, clutching that little victory, hit me harder than I thought it would. Maybe there was something to this teaching gig I’d always brushed off. Like many, I’d spent my life dodging classrooms, chasing action instead. And portals, battles, and chaos seemed more rewarding…at first, at least. But standing there, watching her grin, I felt a flicker of purpose I hadn’t considered.

  As Nadia darted off to show her new wind spell to the other teenagers, I turned to Alira. “After everything she’s been through, I can’t believe she’s still so... hopeful.”

  “She wasn’t at first,” she replied, her voice soft but sure. “Each visit, she opened up a bit more. And she always asked about you.” Her words caught me off guard, a warm jolt cutting through my surprise.

  “Really?” The thought warmed me more than I expected. “Then maybe I could join you on these visits.” The idea felt right. Spending time with them, seeing Nadia grow.

  “I’d like that,” she said softly. I slipped an arm around her shoulders just as Nadia returned, her classmates trailing her, all wide-eyed and chattering.

  “He taught me the spell!” she announced, glowing with pride.

  One of the boys squinted at me. “Wait, are you the mage she said can open portals by yourself?”

  A ripple of disbelief passed through the group. “That’s impossible,” another argued. “The books say it takes at least three casters!”

  “Yeah, if you can really do it, show us,” a girl challenged.

  My stomach tightened. Normally, I wouldn’t mind demonstrating—but portal magic had been suppressed since the siege began. Even Alira’s expression faltered, her eyes flickering with quiet regret. Disappointment was inevitable.

  Better to temper their expectations. “It takes immense concentration and energy,” I said carefully. “And after recent battles, I might not be... at full strength.”

  They grumbled but nodded, though their skepticism lingered. Still, I closed my eyes and reached for the familiar image, the desert, its endless sands, the dry heat. To my shock, the vision snapped into focus effortlessly.

  When I opened my eyes, a tiny distortion hovered in the air. I widened it slowly until the portal shimmered into full view, revealing golden dunes under a harsh sun.

  The teenagers fell utterly silent, mouths agape. But it was Alira’s reaction that struck me hardest—her eyes wide, her breath catching.

  “If they lifted the suppression spell...” she whispered.

  A slow grin spread across my face. “It means they’ve broken the siege.”