Princess zetulah viridian POV;
(The Azzuri-Wintervale Pass, Dusk)
Snow lashed my face like a thousand needles. I clenched the reins, knuckles white, pulse hammering. Kallan rode beside me—rigid, silent. His breath fogged in the air, but the pass felt... wrong. Too still. Too empty. Even the wind's howl sounded like metal grinding bone.
Kaelith's voice shattered the quiet.
"They're here."
Then—fire.
The sky ripped open. Emberclaw warriors poured down from the cliffs, flames devouring snow, steel, flesh. The screams—gods, the screams. Men burned inside their armor, their bodies melting into slag. The stench of charred skin choked the air.
My horse reared. I hit the ground—hard. Bones snapped, then knitted back together as the shift took hold. Fangs. Claws. A heartbeat of pain, then heat flooded my veins.
A soldier lunged. My jaws crushed his throat. Blood hissed on the snow.
Kallan barked orders, his warriors lashing out with ice, but it was useless. The fire spread—hungry, unstoppable. Viridian fighters flickered in the smoke, blades flashing, too slow, too weak—
Kaelith's grip yanked me behind an ice slab. "Fall back!"
I wrenched free, fangs bared. "We hold."
"You're getting us slaughtered—"
A scream cut him off.
Kallan staggered, armor glowing molten, lips parted in soundless agony.
My gut turned to ice.
This wasn't war.
It was a massacre.
Ice shattered. Fire roared. The pass boiled—steam blistering my throat, blood freezing mid-spatter. I ripped through Emberclaw warriors, but they just kept coming. Endless. Unrelenting.
Kaelith dragged me behind a melting ridge. His breath heaved. "We're done."
I shoved him, voice mangled in my half-wolf snarl. "Fix it."
Something flickered in his eyes—hesitation, doubt—before he locked it away.
Lies.
Behind us, Kallan's frost failed. The Azzuri line buckled.
"Do it!" I roared.
Kaelith's face went cold. Distant.
"Stay alive," he murmured.
Then he was gone.
—---
(Azzuri War Tent, Pre-Dawn)
I paced. Three steps. Pivot. Where is he?
The tent stank of blood and my fury.
Solric stormed in, face pale. "He's gone."
"Liar!"
He slammed a parchment onto the table. The Emberclaw seal glared up at me, wax unbroken.
I ripped it open.
One line.
Kaelith's jagged scrawl.
Forgive me.
The world tilted.
Outside, the wind screamed.
Or maybe I did.
—-----------------
(Azzuri War Tent, Dawn)
The war tent stank—damp parchment, burnt oil, sour, cloying. My boots crushed the brittle skin of dried mud beneath me, snapping it open like old wounds. The air was thick, waiting, heavy with the smell of sweat and blood. Rage slithered through my ribs, tightening, coiling—too tight, ready to strike.
Kaelith betrayed us.
I slammed the message onto the war table, the broken wax seal smirking up at me like a final mockery, its poison already spilled.
"He crawled back to Ragnis," I spat, my voice scraping the air like a dagger against stone. "Made a deal."
Kallan leaned over the parchment, storm-blue eyes scanning quickly. His jaw clenched—once, twice—but he stayed silent. Didn't need words. Disappointment hung off him like a shroud, a weight too heavy to shake off.
"Told you not to trust him," he muttered.
Solric, still as stone beside him, arms crossed, didn't even blink. "Give the word. We hunt."
Yes. The answer sat bitter on my tongue, but I couldn't say it. Yes, carve him open. But—
My fingers trembled against the table's edge. Since when does Kaelith grovel? The man I knew would've burned Ragnis's throne to the ground before crawling back to him. Unless—
Unless this is a play.
My stomach twisted, churning. Kaelith... what hell are you brewing?
—------
(Emberclaw camp, near zetulah's camp)
Kaelith emberclaw POV;
Firelight danced, painting Kaelith's face in blood-orange streaks, flickering shadows that only half-masked the tension in the air. He knelt, back straight, breath steady, but sweat snaked down his spine, betraying the calm facade.
Ragnis's voice grated, like rusted steel on bone. "Run home, boy? Why?"
Because you're a predictable bastard.
Kaelith lifted his chin, his eyes cold—too cold. "I know how to break them."
Murmurs rippled through the warlords, shifting like vultures, blades clinking, uncertainty stirring. Ragnis leaned forward, his throne creaking under his weight, a sound that made the room feel smaller, more suffocating. "Speak."
"Zetulah's reckless. Trusts me." The lie burned in his throat. "Lure her into a trap. End Viridian."
Ragnis's grin split his face like a rotten fruit, wide and vicious. "Betray your little wolf?"
Never.
"I do what's necessary."
A rustle at the edge of the firelight, and Syrene emerged from the shadows, her golden eyes narrowing into slits. "He's lying."
Ragnis chuckled darkly, a sound that chilled the blood. "Then he'll learn the cost."
Kaelith didn't blink. Bought time. Now use it.
—----
(Princess zetulah viridian POV;)
Kaelith's note burned in my fist, but it wasn't enough to burn away the fury clawing its way up from the pit of my stomach. I was wrong.
Wrong? Bullshit.
The memory flashed—Kaelith hesitating on the battlefield, red eyes flickering like a warning. My blade had kissed his throat, close enough to taste the heat of his breath. You let me live, he'd rasped. Mistake.
The words echoed in my head like a cruel taunt.
Kallan's voice broke through the ghosts in my mind, sharp and commanding. "We attack. Now."
Solric prowled, restless as ever, his lips curling into a snarl. "Wait, and we're crow-food."
The camp fell silent, waiting for me. For the choice.
Strike first. Bury the knife.
Or
Wait. Trust the bastard.
My lungs burned. The decision churned in my gut, but the answer was clear.
"Saddle the horses," I ordered.
Kallan's grin was wolfish, bloodlust flashing in his eyes. Solric barked orders to the men.
Prove me right, Kaelith.
The hooves thundered, the border stones looming ahead like broken fangs, jagged and cruel. I yanked the reins hard, pulling my horse to a sudden stop. "Halt!"
Solric snarled behind me. "Why—?"
"I'm going alone."
A beat of silence. Then, boots scraping over gravel.
Kaelith appeared, his crimson armor dulled by the dying light of the sunset, but there was no sword at his side, no arrogant smirk. Just the cold, unreadable man I had once known.
I gripped my blade tight, the weight of it familiar in my hand. "Truth. Now."
Wind howled between us, carrying ash, and every unspoken thing that had built up between us. The world seemed to hold its breath, suspended on a knife's edge.
He stepped closer, his voice low and steady. "I am lying."
My heart stuttered.
"To them," he added, his gaze locking onto mine, steady, piercing. "Not you."
Behind him, shadows shifted—Emberclaw scouts, too
many to count.
Shit.
Kaelith's voice dropped lower, urgent, almost desperate. "Run."
The horns blared.