The ghost of Cassius’s warmth lingered on my skin for a moment before vanishing, leaving a sudden, biting chill in its wake. I glanced down at my hand, half-expecting to see an imprint of his touch, but it was a different sensation that jolted me from my reverie—the faint brush of my hair against the side of my neck.

It felt wrong.

My hands flew to my ears. Instead of the familiar soft curves, my fingers traced long, tapered points. A cold spike of panic shot through my chest. My bracelet. In the haze of the past few days, I had forgotten it. How could I have been so reckless?

My hand dove into my dimensional storage, fingers fumbling for the cool metal. I practically ripped the bracelet out, my heart hammering against my ribs as I rushed to secure the clasp on my wrist. The moment it clicked shut, a familiar thrum of magic washed over me, a gentle pressure that felt like coming home. I raised my hands again, tentatively this time. Small, rounded lobes met my touch. The panic receded, replaced by a deep, shuddering breath.

Focus, Thalia. I leaned against the heavy oak of my desk, pressing my fingertips to my temples and gazing out at the spires of Tirilla piercing the evening sky. I had to get my thoughts in order before finding Amelia. My priority was finding a weakness in the city’s barrier—a seam I could unspool just long enough to bring the elves through.

A sharp rap on the door made me jump. My eyes flickered down to my travel-stained clothes and dirt-caked boots. For a second, I considered diving under the bed covers.

“It’s me, Amelia,” a calm voice called through the wood. “Princess, may I come in?”

The tension flooded from my shoulders in a rush. I pressed a hand to my chest, willing my heart to slow. “Yes, Amelia. Please.”

The door swung open, and Amelia slipped inside, her presence a beacon of tranquility in my chaotic thoughts. She offered a small, knowing smile as she shut the door and settled into the chair at my desk. “I didn’t realize you had returned,” she said, her voice a low murmur. “I was merely maintaining the illusion that the princess hadn’t vanished.”

“Something was pulling me back,” I confessed. “A feeling that I’m needed here, now more than ever.”

Her expression turned grave. “You are. Your timing is impeccable. Tell me what happened first, please.”

“We returned to Aelindoria with the elves,” I began, the words tumbling out. “But we were met at the forest’s edge by a creature… Amelia, it was a monstrosity of bark and shadow, as large as the ancient trees.” Her eyes widened slightly, her composure unwavering. “But its size wasn’t the strangest part. Mana was useless against it. It was wrapped in a magical barrier, one so tightly woven I could barely find a thread to grasp. But I broke it. Only then could we bring it down.”

“The abominations are evolving,” Amelia observed, her gaze distant. “Growing more complex. And more frequent.”

“This was more than evolution,” I insisted. “That barrier was crafted. Deliberately. And I think we both know who has the skill for such a thing.”

“Blair,” she said. The name fell flat and heavy in the quiet room.

I nodded. “Once the creature was dealt with, the elves agreed to lend us their aid. They are… wary. But they accepted me as a bridge between our worlds.” I paused, then added, “There was one other thing. I learned of Oakhaven and that the elder wielded a staff passed down through generations. I also acquired this.”

I summoned the ancient scroll from my storage, the delicate parchment cool against my fingers. I laid it on the desk between us. The air seemed to grow still as Amelia leaned forward, not touching it, but eyeing the faded script with a profound reverence.

“This is important,” she breathed. “Its words are for a time not yet upon us, Thalia.”

“What is its purpose?”

“It is for the coin holders,” she explained, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “A time will come when they need it most. It is a key—a way to buy them the one thing they will not have enough of. Time. That is all I can say.”

“I understand,” I said, though a thousand new questions bloomed in my mind. “Speaking of them, is there any news?”

“Your plan for her was a success,” Amelia reported. “Lyra joined the group. They made a stop in Glens Crossing before heading into the Pillard Forest. They are on their way to Tirilla now.”

“How long?”

She considered for a moment. “They should arrive in two days.”

“I’ll meet them when they do.” I leaned forward, lowering my voice. “Amelia, do you know what they’re searching for?”

“I know the path they must walk,” she admitted carefully. “My role, for now, is to guide them to the underbelly of this city, to the trading center that thrives in the dark. There is an artifact they must find. It is not yet time for all paths to converge.”

I treasured these rare moments of clarity from her. It wasn’t often she revealed so much.

“And Blair? My father?” The names felt like poison on my tongue.

The warmth in Amelia’s expression evaporated. Her posture became rigid, and her eyes, usually so serene, clouded with an urgency that stole the air from my lungs. “The shadows are gathering faster than even I foresaw. Those two stand at the heart of the storm, Thalia. Our time has run out.”

“Can we stop them?” My voice was barely a whisper. “Is there any hope of preventing K’tthar’s return?”

Her gaze dropped to her hands, folded tightly in her lap—the most direct evasion I had ever seen from her. “That is a truth hidden from my sight,” she said quietly. “But I can tell you this: if K’tthar does return, it is not your fate to face him. That burden belongs to the coin holders alone.”

A hot surge of frustration rose in my chest. “Then what is my fate?” I demanded, my voice cracking. “A guide? A glorified messenger who points the way and hopes for the best?”

Her head snapped up, and her gaze was suddenly fierce, pinning me in place. “Why do you fight this, Thalia? Why are you so desperate to claim this burden as your own?”

“Because I want to save our world!” I cried, the words raw and torn from my soul. “I want to protect the people of this city, the elves in their forests… everyone!”

A flicker of pride, fierce and bright, softened her features. “And there is your purpose,” she said, her voice resonating with power. “Do not mistake the shield for a lesser weapon than the sword. The coin holders may be the blade that strikes the beast, but you, Thalia, are the shield that will guard the world while they strike. What good is a sword that saves a kingdom of ash and bone?”

Her words settled over me, not extinguishing the cold knot of dread in my stomach, but giving it shape. She hadn’t said we could stop my father. She had only told me what to do when we failed. K’tthar’s return was a fixed point, an unstoppable tide. And my duty was to protect as many as I could from being swept away.

“You have done remarkable work,” Amelia said gently, her voice steadying me. “You saved Cassius, the Elven King. You brought his people home and forged an alliance that has been broken for centuries. They join this fight because of you. You are not the girl you were.”

A wry, humorless smile touched my lips. “It only took dying to get me there.”

For the first time, I saw Amelia’s composure truly break. Her eyes widened, and a short, surprised laugh escaped her lips. “Well,” she said, shaking her head with a fond smile. “I suppose that is one way to look at it.”

“Amelia,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “Thank you.”

“Always,” she returned softly. “There is one more complication. Kaelen is back.”