The cavern was quieter now, but the silence was uneasy. Whispers threaded the air like smoke, warriors murmuring about the envoy, the Council, the fire that had split the skies. Every glance toward Zaria was tinged with awe, fear, and expectation.
Zaria sat apart, her flame flickering faintly in her palm, weak but steady. She turned it slowly, letting the golden fire dance along her fingers. It had saved them, but it had also exposed her. And now, the Council wanted her in chains of politics.
“You should be resting.”
Damian’s voice came from behind her. She didn’t turn, though she felt the weight of his gaze stern but concerned, the gaze of a man who carried her safety like a second skin.
“I can’t rest,” Zaria admitted softly. “Not when the Council summons me like a prisoner instead of
