For three days, Fia barely left the bed.
Not because anyone had ordered her to stay there.
Though they had.
Repeatedly.
Loudly.
And in Mira's case, with enough medical authority that even Seraphine had stopped pretending the queen outranked her inside a sickroom.
Fia stayed because her body simply refused to negotiate.
The first morning began with cold.
Not ordinary cold.
Not the kind blankets fixed.
It started beneath her skin.
Deep.
A chill spreading outward from the bones while the dragon inside her burned hot enough to make sweat bead along her hairline.
Two opposite temperatures occupying the same body.
Her hands trembled.
Her teeth clicked softly together.
And when she opened her eyes, the room seemed far away.
Too bright.
Too sharp.
Mira noticed before Fia managed a word.
The healer had been asleep in the chair beside the bed, chin tucked against her chest, one hand still resting on the mattress where she must have fallen asleep holding Fia's wrist.
The instant Fia's breathing changed, Mira woke.
No confusion.
No slow return to consciousness.
Her storm-gray eyes opened, locked onto Fia's face, and sharpened.
"Fia?"
Fia tried to answer.
Her throat worked.
Nothing came out except a thin, shaky breath.
Mira was on her feet immediately.
Her palm pressed to Fia's forehead.
Then her throat.
Then her chest.
"What do you feel?"
"Cold."
The word barely escaped.
Mira frowned.
"You're burning."
"I know."
Fia tried to laugh.
It came out broken.
Mira's expression changed.
Not panic.
Fia had learned the difference.
Mira's panic was quiet.
Her voice became calmer when she was afraid.
Her hands became gentler.
And now they were very gentle.
"Seraphine."
The queen was awake before Mira finished saying her name.
She had been sleeping on the other side of the enormous bed, still half dressed in yesterday's trousers and undershirt because she had refused to leave Fia alone after the Black Chapel warning.
Seraphine sat upright immediately.
"What?"
"Get Lyriel."
Seraphine was moving before the sentence finished.
"Elira too?"
"Yes."
Fia closed her eyes.
The mattress shifted beneath Mira's weight as the healer climbed onto the bed beside her.
Warm hands cupped Fia's cheeks.
"Stay with me."
"I'm here."
"I know. Keep being here."
Fia managed a tired smile.
"You always make it sound like an order."
"It is."
The dragon shifted.
Heat rolled violently through Fia's chest.
She gasped.
Her back arched.
Pain hit.
Not a stab.
Not one clean point.
Everything.
Every nerve from throat to fingertips seemed to ignite at once.
Her vision went white.
A sound tore out of her.
Mira caught her before she could curl too tightly around herself.
"Easy. Easy."
Fia couldn't answer.
The pain climbed.
Her lungs seized around a breath that refused to move.
Her hearts beat out of sequence.
One fast.
One slower.
Then both slammed together hard enough to make her chest feel hollow.
Ardentis roared somewhere deep inside her—not in anger, but in warning.
Something is pulling at us.
Fia's eyes snapped open.
"What?"
Mira leaned closer.
"What did he say?"
Fia swallowed through pain.
"Pulling."
The door burst open.
Lyriel came in barefoot, spectacles crooked, dark hair almost entirely escaped from its bun. She had a robe thrown over a sleep shirt and three glowing ward-stones already orbiting one hand.
Elira came behind her carrying a sword.
Of course she did.
She wore nothing but trousers and a loose undershirt, red hair wild around her face, expression somewhere between murderous and terrified.
"Who do I kill?" Elira demanded.
Mira didn't even look at her.
"Preferably nobody. Get the curtains closed."
Elira did it.
Immediately.
No joke.
No argument.
That frightened Fia almost as much as the pain.
Lyriel approached the bed, one hand raised.
"Permission?"
Fia nodded weakly.
Lyriel touched two fingers to the center of Fia's forehead.
Magic entered softly.
Cool.
Precise.
The opposite of Ardentis.
Her expression changed instantly.
"Oh."
Mira's eyes narrowed.
"'Oh' is not a diagnosis."
Lyriel didn't respond at first.
Her eyes had gone distant.
Then suddenly very focused.
She removed her hand.
"The dragon isn't causing this."
Fia's teeth clenched as another wave rolled through her.
"Good to know."
Lyriel ignored the sarcasm.
"Something is interacting with the bond."
Seraphine returned with two guards and dismissed them at the threshold.
"The Black Chapel?"
Lyriel looked at her.
"I don't know."
That answer made the room colder.
Because Lyriel almost always knew something.
Even if it was only what she needed to learn next.
Mira began pulling medical supplies from her satchel.
"Then while you figure it out, I'm treating symptoms."
She looked at Fia.
"Pain?"
Fia laughed once.
It sounded awful.
"Eight."
Mira went still.
Then reached for a small glass vial.
"No arguments."
"I wasn't—"
"Good."
She uncorked it and pressed it to Fia's lips.
"Small swallow."
Fia drank.
Bitterness exploded across her tongue.
She gagged.
Elira appeared beside the bed with water before anyone asked.
Fia drank that too.
Her hands shook so badly Elira had to hold the cup.
That did something ugly to Elira's face.
The captain looked away for half a heartbeat.
Then back.
"Hey."
Fia's eyes found hers.
Elira smiled.
It wasn't her usual wicked grin.
It was smaller.
Almost fragile.
"You're not allowed to make me scared before breakfast."
Fia swallowed.
"Sorry."
Elira's smile vanished.
"Don't apologize."
Mira adjusted the blankets.
"You're too hot for these."
Fia's voice trembled.
"I'm freezing."
"I know."
That was the problem.
Mira replaced the heavy blankets with lighter layers and tucked warmed cloth around Fia's hands and feet while leaving her chest uncovered enough to monitor her breathing.
Seraphine sat beside Fia's head.
Her fingers moved through Fia's hair, slow and deliberate.
"You don't have to do anything today."
Fia closed her eyes.
"What about—"
"No."
"Greyfen—"
"No."
"The Chapel—"
"Still no."
Fia cracked an eye open.
Seraphine's expression was absolute.
"The kingdom existed before you woke up here."
The queen's thumb stroked Fia's temple.
"It will survive three days without consuming you."
Fia's throat tightened.
"You don't know it'll be three."
"No."
Seraphine leaned closer.
"But whether it is three hours or three weeks, you are not solving this from inside a pain spike."
Elira sat down heavily at the foot of the bed.
"I vote we put that on the palace gates."
Lyriel was already drawing a new ward circle around the bed.
Mira gave Elira a look.
"You vote on nothing."
"I'm emotionally enfranchised."
"Quiet."
For once, Elira obeyed.
Day OneBy noon, the medicine had taken the edge off.
Not much.
Pain fell from eight to six and stayed there like a guest refusing to leave.
Fia drifted in and out of sleep.
Sometimes she woke convinced only minutes had passed.
Sometimes the light had changed completely.
Every time she opened her eyes, one of them was there.
Mira most often.
She kept notes obsessively.
Breathing rate.
Pulse.
Temperature.
Mana fluctuations.
Dragon resonance.
What Fia ate.
What she drank.
When she slept.
When she coughed.
How much blood appeared when she did.
Mira wrote everything down as if she could defeat death through sufficiently aggressive documentation.
At one point Fia woke to find the healer sitting beside her with her forehead pressed against their joined hands.
"Mira?"
Mira lifted her head immediately.
"I'm awake."
"You were sleeping."
"I was thinking horizontally."
"You were sitting."
"Then I was thinking vertically."
Fia almost smiled.
It hurt.
Mira noticed.
"Don't."
"What?"
"Pretend you're okay because I look tired."
Fia stared at her.
Mira's eyes were red around the edges.
Not crying.
Not now.
But recently.
Fia tightened her fingers around hers.
"You should sleep."
"So should you."
"I have."
"Not enough."
"You haven't either."
Mira's jaw tightened.
Fia whispered, "That wasn't a request."
For one moment they simply looked at each other.
Then Mira laughed under her breath.
A tiny, exhausted sound.
"You've been spending too much time with Seraphine."
"Probably."
Mira leaned down and pressed her forehead against Fia's.
No urgency.
No feverish romance.
Just closeness.
"I hate this."
Fia's breath caught.
"The illness?"
"The waiting."
Mira swallowed.
"I can fight a wound. Infection. Poison. A collapsed lung. Even your absurd dragon-heart, most days."
Her fingers tightened.
"But this? Watching your body hurt while I stand here trying to shave numbers off a pain scale?"
Her voice thinned.
"I hate it."
Fia didn't know what to say.
So she did the only thing she could.
She raised their joined hands and pressed Mira's knuckles against her cheek.
Mira closed her eyes.
They stayed like that until Fia slept again.
When Fia woke later, Elira was there.
Alone.
The room was dark except for a low lamp.
Elira sat sideways in the chair, boots removed, one knee drawn up, polishing her sword with slow mechanical movements.
Fia watched her for several seconds.
Elira noticed anyway.
"You're terrible at pretending to be asleep."
"So are you."
"I'm not pretending."
Fia looked toward the sword.
"Planning to fight my illness?"
Elira inspected the blade.
"If it became something with a face, yes."
"Very practical."
"I thought so."
Fia shifted carefully.
Pain bloomed under her ribs.
She stopped.
Elira was immediately beside her.
"Easy."
"I'm fine."
Elira's expression sharpened.
"Don't use that word."
Fia blinked.
Elira sat on the bed.
Not touching her yet.
Waiting.
"Can I?"
Fia nodded.
Elira slid one arm carefully behind Fia's shoulders and helped raise her enough to adjust the pillows.
Her strength was absurd.
Usually Fia found that attractive.
Tonight it just made her feel safe.
Elira settled her down again.
"Better?"
"Yes."
"Good."
Silence.
Then Fia said quietly, "You're scared."
Elira looked offended.
"I'm fearless."
"You're polishing the same section of that sword for twenty minutes."
Elira looked toward the chair.
Then back.
"Traitor."
Fia managed the faintest smile.
Elira sighed.
Her swagger went out of her all at once.
"Yeah."
The admission was quiet.
"I'm scared."
She looked down at her hands.
"I can fight people. Monsters. Demons. Sable. Probably Lucien if I had enough bad judgment."
"You do."
"Exactly."
Fia laughed softly.
Elira continued.
"But I can't punch this."
Her gaze flicked toward Fia's chest.
"I can't stand in front of it."
She swallowed.
"I hate things I can't stand in front of."
Fia reached for her.
Elira took her hand instantly.
"What if you just stay beside it?" Fia whispered.
Elira's eyes went bright.
She looked away.
"That's disgustingly romantic."
"You're welcome."
Elira bent and kissed Fia's fingers.
Very gently.
"I can do beside."
She lay down outside the blankets, one arm resting close enough that Fia could reach it.
Fia did.
She held Elira's wrist until she fell asleep again.
Night OneThe first night was worse.
The pain came in waves.
Hot.
Then cold.
Then crushing pressure behind the eyes.
Fia woke suddenly after midnight with blood in her mouth.
She coughed once.
Twice.
The third left red across the cloth Mira pressed to her lips.
Every woman in the room woke.
Seraphine was out of the chair before Fia fully understood what was happening.
Lyriel's ward stones lit automatically.
Elira's hand went to the weapon under the bedside table.
Mira was already checking Fia's lungs.
"Slow breath."
Fia tried.
Pain cut under her ribs.
She gasped instead.
Mira's expression tightened.
"Again."
Seraphine supported Fia from behind, one arm around her shoulders.
"Use me."
Fia leaned back against her.
The queen was warm.
Solid.
Fia closed her eyes.
"Again," Mira said.
In.
A little.
Out.
Longer.
Again.
The coughing eased.
Mira inspected the cloth.
"Less than before."
Fia sagged.
Seraphine pressed her lips against Fia's hair.
"Good."
Lyriel was staring at the ward stones.
"Interesting."
Four heads turned toward her.
Elira said, "If you say 'interesting' while she's bleeding, I am going to eat your notebook."
Lyriel ignored her.
"The spike didn't begin in Fia."
Mira's eyes narrowed.
"What?"
"It came from outside."
Lyriel held up one of the stones.
A black line had appeared through the normally silver rune.
"The ward reacted first. Then Fia."
Seraphine's expression hardened.
"The Chapel."
"Possibly."
Fia's dragon moved violently.
It is calling.
Fia's entire body went rigid.
Seraphine felt it.
"What?"
Fia whispered, "Ardentis says it's calling."
The room went silent.
Lyriel moved closer.
"Calling who?"
Fia's eyes unfocused.
Heat pulsed in her veins.
"Us."
Ardentis growled.
Not by name.
The dragon's voice seemed deeper than before.
By blood.
Fia's mouth went dry.
"What does that mean?"
The Chapel remembers dragons.
Lyriel couldn't hear him directly, but she watched Fia's face.
"Tell me."
Fia repeated it.
Lyriel went pale.
Mira said immediately, "No."
Everyone looked at her.
Mira's expression was fierce.
"No. Whatever that means, no. She is not answering it."
Seraphine nodded.
"She isn't."
Elira drew her sword halfway out of the scabbard for no useful reason except perhaps emotional support.
"Tell the Chapel to get in line."
Even Lyriel almost smiled.
Fia didn't.
Because somewhere behind the pain, behind the blood, behind the dragon's anger—
she could feel it.
Very faint.
Like a bell ringing under a mountain.
Something impossibly far away.
Calling.
Day TwoThe second day was quieter.
And somehow harder.
The sharp spikes lessened.
The constant ache deepened.
Fia's body felt heavy.
Not exhausted.
Weighted.
Like gravity had been increased specifically around her bed.
She slept for hours and woke no more rested than before.
Her appetite disappeared.
Mira noticed.
Of course.
"Soup."
"No."
"Soup."
"I'm not hungry."
"That was not the question."
"Mira."
"Fia."
Fia stared at the bowl.
Mira stared at Fia.
Across the room, Elira leaned toward Lyriel.
"How much would you wager?"
Lyriel didn't look up.
"On Mira winning?"
"Yes."
"That isn't gambling. That's predicting sunrise."
Seraphine, reading reports in the chair, hid a smile behind one hand.
Fia sighed.
"Three bites."
"Six."
"Four."
"Eight."
"That's not how negotiation works."
"It is when the other side is medically compromised."
Fia glared.
Mira raised the spoon.
"Open."
Fia opened her mouth.
Elira whispered, "Defeated by soup."
Fia gave her a murderous look.
Elira blew her a kiss.
It was ridiculous.
It was embarrassing.
And somehow the humiliation made the room feel normal.
That mattered.
By the sixth spoonful, Fia had eaten enough that Mira stopped looking personally insulted by her existence.
By the eighth, Fia leaned back into the pillows.
"Happy?"
"Moderately."
"Monster."
"Yes."
Mira kissed her forehead.
"Sleep."
The afternoon belonged to Lyriel.
Not because she claimed it.
Because she quietly moved her work into the sickroom and refused to leave.
Books accumulated.
Scrolls.
Ward stones.
Three cups of tea, only one of which she actually drank.
Fia woke to the scratch of pen on paper and watched Lyriel work from the bed.
"You know," Fia said, voice rough, "this is supposed to be rest."
Lyriel didn't look up.
"For you."
"What about you?"
"I'm sitting."
"That is not rest."
Lyriel's pen stopped.
Slowly, she looked toward Fia.
"You're becoming irritatingly perceptive."
"Your fault."
Lyriel considered.
Then closed the book.
Actually closed it.
Fia blinked.
"Wow."
"Don't make this significant."
"It is."
Lyriel removed her glasses.
Rubbed at her eyes.
Then walked over and climbed onto the bed with the awkwardness of someone who understood magical catastrophes far better than pillows.
She sat against the headboard.
Fia shifted her head until it rested against Lyriel's thigh.
Lyriel froze.
"You can move."
"I don't want to."
"Oh."
A pause.
Then Lyriel's hand settled carefully into Fia's hair.
Not naturally.
At first.
Every stroke looked like a calculation.
Then less so.
Fia closed her eyes.
"What are you afraid of?" she asked.
Lyriel's fingers stopped.
"That is an unfair question."
"You ask me unfair questions constantly."
"Yes, but I'm charming."
Fia smiled.
"Debatable."
Lyriel resumed slowly running her fingers through Fia's hair.
"I'm afraid the Chapel understands you better than I do."
Fia opened her eyes.
Lyriel stared toward the far wall.
"I've spent months learning the structure of your illness. Your mana. The dragon bond. The remnants of system interference."
Her mouth tightened.
"I know where your magical threads cross. I know what changes when you lie. I know what your aura looks like five seconds before you faint."
Fia said softly, "Romantic."
Lyriel gave her a tired look.
"I'm being vulnerable."
"Sorry."
"No, you aren't."
"Not really."
That earned the smallest smile.
Lyriel continued.
"And then something thousands of miles away touches the world, and your entire body reacts before I even understand the language it's speaking."
Her voice lowered.
"I hate not knowing."
Fia reached up.
Found Lyriel's hand.
"You don't have to know everything to stay."
Lyriel looked down.
"That sounds suspiciously like wisdom."
"Don't tell anyone."
"I'll document it."
Fia groaned.
Lyriel smiled.
Then leaned down and pressed a kiss to Fia's forehead.
"I'll stay," she whispered.
Night TwoThat night, Seraphine refused to work.
This was remarkable enough that even Fia noticed through the haze.
The queen ordered the reports removed from the room.
She dismissed the aides.
Removed her boots.
Changed into a simple dark sleeping robe.
Then climbed into bed beside Fia and said:
"Move."
Fia stared.
"This is my bed."
"It is enormous."
"Yes, because four women keep invading it."
Seraphine lifted an eyebrow.
"Move."
Fia moved.
The queen settled beside her.
Fia turned carefully onto her side.
Pain tugged.
Not terrible.
Seraphine watched every movement without commenting.
When Fia finally settled, they faced each other.
Close.
Seraphine's hair was loose, spilling dark gold across the pillow. Without crown or armor or council posture, she looked younger.
Not less powerful.
More human.
Fia traced the edge of Seraphine's dragon-and-crown pendant with one finger.
"You still wear it."
Seraphine's mouth curved.
"Always."
"Even to sleep?"
"Usually."
"That seems uncomfortable."
"So does loving you."
Fia blinked.
Seraphine's expression remained completely serious for three seconds.
Then she smiled.
Fia laughed.
It turned into a small cough.
Seraphine's smile vanished instantly.
Fia waved her off.
"Fine."
"Do not say—"
"I know."
Seraphine sighed.
Her hand slid along Fia's cheek.
"Do you remember what you told your family?"
Fia thought.
"I've told them a lot of concerning things."
"That you intend to marry us."
Heat rose into Fia's face despite everything.
"Oh."
"Yes. Oh."
Seraphine's thumb brushed Fia's cheekbone.
"I want you to understand something."
Fia waited.
"I am not loving you toward an ending."
The words were quiet.
Fia's chest tightened.
Seraphine continued.
"I'm not loving you because I expect tragedy and want to make your remaining time beautiful."
Her eyes did not leave Fia's.
"I am loving you toward a future."
Fia's throat worked.
Seraphine's voice grew rougher.
"I want arguments."
"About curtains?"
"Terrible curtains."
Fia smiled.
"I want diplomatic dinners where you kick me under the table because I'm being rude."
"You're always rude."
"I'm queen. It becomes policy."
Fia laughed softly.
Seraphine leaned closer.
"I want you stealing my side of the bed."
"You invade mine."
"I have territorial rights."
"You absolutely do not."
"I will draft them."
Fia's smile trembled.
Seraphine's forehead touched hers.
"I want years, Fia."
The room became very quiet.
"I know I don't get to demand them from the universe."
Seraphine swallowed.
"But I am going to fight for them anyway."
Fia's eyes burned.
"I'm scared."
It came out before she could stop it.
Seraphine's expression broke open.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
"I know."
"What if this doesn't get better?"
"Then we care for you."
"What if the Chapel keeps doing this?"
"Then we destroy the Chapel."
"What if—"
Seraphine kissed her.
Not deeply.
Not passionately.
Just enough to interrupt the spiral.
When she pulled back, Fia stared at her.
"That was cheating."
"Yes."
"You can't solve every argument by kissing me."
Seraphine's gaze warmed.
"I have four wives to coordinate eventually. I need efficient tools."
Fia laughed helplessly.
Then cried.
Quietly.
Seraphine pulled her close.
Fia buried her face against the queen's shoulder.
No one told her to stop.
No one told her to be strong.
She cried until exhaustion took her.
Seraphine held her through all of it.
Day ThreeThe third morning was the worst.
And then, somehow, it wasn't.
Fia woke before everyone else.
The room was gray with dawn.
Mira asleep curled in the chair.
Elira sprawled on the couch with one foot hanging over the edge.
Lyriel asleep at the small table, cheek resting against a folded arm.
Seraphine beside Fia, one hand still loosely holding hers.
Fia breathed in.
Pain.
Five.
Maybe six.
But different.
Localized now.
Her head no longer felt like it was splitting.
Her bones had stopped freezing.
The dragon's heat had stabilized.
She breathed again.
Deep.
It hurt.
But she could.
Ardentis shifted.
The call weakens.
Fia stared at the ceiling.
"Why?"
Perhaps it learned we would not answer.
"Or?"
The dragon was silent.
That worried her more.
"Ardentis."
Or it has finished calling.
Fia's stomach tightened.
"Meaning?"
Meaning something may now be coming.
That was enough to make her pulse jump.
Mira woke immediately.
Her eyes opened.
Found Fia.
"Pain?"
"Five."
Mira sat up.
"Five?"
"Yes."
She was already at the bed.
Hands checking.
Temperature.
Pulse.
Breathing.
Eyes.
Mana.
Then her expression changed.
Relief.
Small.
Careful.
Almost afraid to exist.
"You're better."
Fia nodded.
"I think so."
Mira pressed her forehead to Fia's shoulder.
For several seconds she didn't move.
Then Fia felt something warm against her skin.
A tear.
"Mira?"
"Shut up."
Fia smiled.
Elira woke to that.
Saw Mira bent over Fia.
Immediately panicked.
"What happened?"
"She's improving," Mira said without lifting her head.
Elira froze.
Then her entire body sagged.
"Oh."
Lyriel woke next.
Seraphine last, though only by seconds.
Suddenly all four were around the bed.
Fia felt ridiculous.
Loved.
Smothered.
Alive.
Elira leaned close enough that their noses nearly touched.
"Say something annoying."
Fia blinked.
"What?"
"I need proof."
Fia considered.
"You're getting wrinkles."
Elira recoiled.
"She's healed!"
Mira actually laughed.
Lyriel pressed two fingers to Fia's wrist.
"The resonance is lower."
Seraphine sat on the edge of the bed.
"Can you sit?"
Mira gave her a look.
"Slowly."
With help, Fia sat.
Her body protested.
But obeyed.
The room looked almost strange from upright.
Like she'd been gone longer than three days.
Mira tucked pillows behind her.
Elira adjusted the blankets.
Lyriel brought water.
Seraphine simply sat close enough that their shoulders touched.
For a while, no one said anything.
Then Fia looked around at them.
At the exhaustion carved into each face.
Mira's shadows beneath her eyes.
Elira's hair unwashed and chaotic.
Lyriel's ink-stained fingers.
Seraphine's wrinkled robe.
"You all look terrible."
Elira clutched her chest.
"After everything I did for you."
"You slept on a couch."
"For love."
Lyriel nodded solemnly.
"A tragic sacrifice."
Mira pushed the water toward Fia.
"Drink."
Fia did.
Then she lowered the cup.
"I'm sorry."
All four expressions changed.
"No," Mira said.
Fia raised a hand.
"Not for being sick."
That stopped them.
"I'm sorry I made you all think you had to hide being scared from me."
Seraphine's eyes softened.
Fia continued.
"I saw it."
She looked at Mira.
"When you thought I wasn't looking."
Then Elira.
"When you polished that sword for hours."
Lyriel.
"When you kept researching because not knowing terrified you."
Seraphine.
"When you held me like you thought I'd disappear if you loosened your arms."
Silence.
Fia swallowed.
"I don't want you to have to pretend with me."
Elira glanced away first.
"Damn."
Lyriel muttered, "I preferred her when she was emotionally repressed."
Mira rubbed her eyes.
Seraphine took Fia's hand.
"Then we won't."
Fia nodded.
"Good."
Elira cleared her throat.
"So, just to establish the new policy, when you do something terrifying, we're allowed to cry?"
"Yes."
"Yell?"
"Probably."
"Threaten to tie you to furniture?"
"Mira already does."
Mira said, "And will continue."
Lyriel added, "May I take notes?"
"No."
"Unreasonable."
Fia laughed.
And this time—
it didn't turn into a cough.
Everyone noticed.
The silence after the laugh lasted half a second.
Then Mira's eyes widened.
Elira grinned.
Lyriel's mouth parted.
Seraphine looked almost stunned.
Fia realized it too.
She laughed again.
Just once.
Testing.
Nothing.
No blood.
No stabbing pain.
Her chest hurt.
But normally.
Humanly.
Mira put both hands over her face.
Elira actually cheered.
Lyriel immediately reached for a notebook.
Seraphine leaned in and kissed Fia's temple.
"Again," Elira demanded.
"I am not performing."
"For science."
"That's Lyriel's line."
"Love science."
Fia shook her head.
And smiled.
The peace lasted until afternoon.
Of course it did.
Fia had finally managed half a bowl of stew and a piece of bread. Mira had reluctantly allowed her to sit near the window, wrapped in a dark violet robe with her feet tucked beneath her.
Elira lay on the rug.
Lyriel was reading.
Seraphine had begun going through reports again but only the least alarming ones.
It almost felt normal.
Then every ward in the palace went silent.
Not broke.
Not flared.
Silent.
Lyriel's head snapped up.
Her book fell from her hands.
Fia felt Ardentis awaken completely.
No laziness.
No amusement.
Pure attention.
The lamps dimmed.
A low vibration passed through the glass.
Fia's breath stopped.
Seraphine was instantly standing.
Mira's hand landed on Fia's shoulder.
Elira's sword was already out.
Lyriel whispered:
"No."
Outside the window, the afternoon sky was clear.
Blue.
Beautiful.
Then a black line appeared across the horizon.
Not clouds.
Something thinner.
Straighter.
Like someone had cut the sky.
Fia stood instinctively.
Mira tried to stop her.
"Fia—"
"I'm okay."
"That isn't the point."
Ardentis spoke.
And for the first time since Fia had known him, the ancient dragon sounded genuinely afraid.
The door is open.
Fia's blood went cold.
"What door?"
The black line on the horizon widened.
Just slightly.
Darkness appeared behind it.
Not night.
Not shadow.
Something deeper.
Lyriel's face drained of color.
"The Black Chapel."
Seraphine stepped in front of Fia.
As though a human body could block a horizon.
"What are we looking at?"
Lyriel shook her head slowly.
"I don't know."
A bell rang.
One note.
Impossible.
Distant.
Yet somehow inside the room.
Fia flinched.
Mira wrapped an arm around her automatically.
Second bell.
Elira moved closer.
Third.
Lyriel's ward stones cracked simultaneously.
Fourth.
Ardentis roared.
Do not answer.
Fia's eyes burned gold.
"I'm not."
Fifth bell.
A thin trail of blood slipped from Fia's nose.
Mira wiped it instantly.
Sixth.
The palace walls groaned.
Seraphine grabbed Fia's hand.
Elira took the other.
Lyriel stepped behind her.
Mira pressed close at her side.
Four anchors.
Again.
Always.
The seventh bell rang.
Then stopped.
The black wound in the horizon closed.
Just like that.
Blue sky returned.
The wards flickered back to life.
Birds began screaming outside.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Lyriel whispered:
"That wasn't an attack."
Seraphine looked at her.
"What was it?"
Lyriel stared at the place where the darkness had been.
Her voice was barely audible.
"A declaration."
Fia felt the dragon curl tightly around her hearts.
Not hungry.
Protective.
Ancient.
Angry.
The Chapel has remembered us, Ardentis said.
Fia's fingers tightened around Seraphine and Elira's hands.
Mira's arm stayed around her waist.
Lyriel pressed one palm between Fia's shoulder blades.
Three days of pain.
Three days of being carried, fed, held, argued with, cried over, and loved.
And whatever waited beyond that black horizon had chosen the exact moment Fia began to recover to announce itself.
Fia swallowed.
Her body was still weak.
Her legs still trembled.
Her chest still hurt.
But she was standing.
Not alone.
Never alone.
Seraphine's voice came low and lethal.
"Whatever that was…"
She looked around at the four women surrounding Fia.
Then at the horizon.
"…it doesn't get her."
Mira's grip tightened.
"No."
Elira smiled without humor.
"Let it try."
Lyriel's hazel eyes reflected fading traces of impossible darkness.
"We need to find out what opened."
Fia listened to them.
Then closed her eyes.
Deep inside her, behind human hearts and dragonfire, something unfamiliar stirred in answer to the seven bells.
Not Ardentis.
Not the system.
Something else.
Something that had been sleeping so deeply Fia had never known it existed.
Her eyes opened.
Gold burned around the amethyst.
And very quietly, Fia said:
"I think it already found me."
The room went still.
Outside, somewhere impossibly far away, a bell rang an eighth time.
Only Fia heard it.