Claimed In Ruins

Chapter 5

“The northern traders are lying.”

Eryndra didn’t look up from the spread of marked maps beneath her hands. “That’s a strong opening statement.”

“It’s also true,” Maelis said.

“You say that every season.”

“Because every season they try to cheat us.”

Eryndra pressed two fingers lightly against the edge of the inked territory lines. Threads of silver light flickered briefly across the parchment beneath her touch before fading again.

North pass.

Three wagons.

Rain before dusk.

“No,” she said after a moment. “This time they’re only desperate.”

Maelis folded her arms. “You got all that from a map?”

“Partly.”

“That remains deeply unsettling.”

Eryndra ignored her.

The council chamber sat mostly empty this early in the morning. Just the long stone table, scattered reports, and the distant sounds of workers rebuilding damaged walls somewhere above them.

Quiet enough for her gift to settle properly.

That mattered.

Visions were rarely dramatic despite what stories claimed. Mostly they arrived in fragments. Impressions. Tiny shifts beneath ordinary things.

A stain on paper carrying the scent of sea salt where there should be none.

A voice tightening half a second too late.

The wrong bird flying north before snowfall.

Power lived in patterns.

Eryndra had spent her entire life learning how to listen.

Maelis leaned over the map again. “So what’s the problem with the traders?”

“One wagon axle is cracked.”

“That’s not exactly catastrophic.”

“The western road won’t survive another heavy load after the battle traffic. If they push through before repairs are finished, the lower ridge collapses.”

Maelis blinked slowly. “And you know this because…”

“The grain inventory report smelled like wet cedar.”

“That sentence made me tired.”

Eryndra finally looked up. “You asked.”

“No, I absolutely did not ask for whatever cursed explanation that was.”

A laugh escaped Eryndra before she could stop it.

Maelis pointed immediately. “There. That. More of that.”

“Don’t make it strange.”

“You’re in a decent mood today. I’m documenting the event.”

“I’m working.”

“You’re smiling while working. Honestly, I should alert the healers.”

Eryndra shook her head and returned to the maps.

The gift moved cleanly this morning. No static. No fractured edges. Just certainty sliding into place one thread at a time.

Good.

She needed good.

The last few days had left the entire mountain carrying tension beneath its skin.

“How’s the alpha?” Maelis asked casually.

Eryndra didn’t look up. “Still kicking.”

“That’s a terrible answer.”

“It’s an accurate one.”

“He still coughing blood?”

Eryndra’s fingers paused briefly over the map.

“Yes.”

“And he’s still pretending that’s normal?”

“Yes.”

Maelis groaned softly. “I’m surrounded by idiots.”

“You spend most of your time with soldiers. That’s partly your own fault.”

“Fair.”

Footsteps echoed outside the chamber doors before Orin walked in carrying two stacks of reports against his chest.

“Good. You’re both here,” he said.

Maelis eyed the papers immediately. “I hate whatever that pile represents.”

“Inventory revisions.”

“I was right to hate it.”

Orin set the reports onto the table with exaggerated care. “The eastern storehouses survived better than expected.”

“That’s actual good news,” Maelis said suspiciously.

“I know. I almost kept it to myself.”

Eryndra reached for the top report automatically.

Orin caught her wrist lightly first.

“Eat something before you start reading.”

“I already ate.”

“What?”

“…Tea.”

Maelis pointed across the table. “See? This is what I deal with.”

“That’s not food,” Orin said.

“It technically contains herbs.”

“That sounded weak even to you.”

Eryndra pulled her hand back with minimal dignity. “You’re both dramatic.”

“And you forget your body exists whenever paperwork appears,” Orin replied.

Maelis nodded firmly. “She once worked through an entire fever.”

“It wasn’t severe.”

“You hallucinated a staircase.”

“It was briefly there.”

“That is not helping your argument.”

Orin slid a wrapped piece of bread across the table toward Eryndra without another word.

She stared at it.

Then at him.

“You’re irritating too.”

“I’ve learned from excellent people.”

Maelis looked proud of herself for reasons Eryndra deeply resented.

The chamber doors opened again before she could answer.

Theron stepped inside mid-conversation with one of the outer guards, dismissing him with a short nod before crossing toward the council table.

Everything in the room shifted subtly when he entered.

Not because he demanded attention.

Because people gave it automatically.

Even exhausted, even injured, he carried steadiness like something built into bone.

Maelis straightened first. “You look less dead today.”

Theron set a folder onto the table. “Your standards remain concerning.”

“They’re practical.”

Orin glanced toward Theron’s side. “Still bleeding?”

“Less.”

“That answer lacks confidence.”

“It lacks detail. Different problem.”

Eryndra stayed quiet.

The bond didn’t.

Warm awareness moved beneath her ribs the second he entered the room. Familiar enough now that she barely reacted outwardly anymore.

Mostly.

Theron’s gaze crossed the table toward her briefly.

Just briefly.

Still enough.

He looked away at the exact same moment she did.

Maelis made the smallest possible sound under her breath.

Orin heard it. So did Eryndra.

Theron probably did too.

Nobody acknowledged it.

Orin cleared his throat smoothly. “The northern traders requested early passage through the western ridge.”

Theron leaned one hand against the table. “Denied.”

Maelis blinked. “You didn’t even ask why.”

“The ridge isn’t stable yet.”

Eryndra looked up sharply.

Theron glanced toward her once. “You marked the concern on yesterday’s route reports.”

Right.

He remembered details like that.

Always had.

Orin watched the exchange quietly without commenting.

“The traders won’t like the delay,” Maelis said.

“They’ll survive disappointment,” Theron replied.

“That sounded personal.”

“It wasn’t.”

Maelis looked unconvinced.

Theron ignored her completely and opened the folder he’d brought with him. “Southern patrols reported movement near the border ruins overnight.”

“Raiders?” Orin asked.

“No tracks confirming it yet.”

Eryndra frowned slightly.

Not because of the report.

Because something brushed against the edges of her senses and vanished before she could fully grasp it.

A flicker.

Wrong.

Gone immediately.

“You alright?” Orin asked.

Eryndra blinked once. “Fine.”

Theron’s attention sharpened instantly anyway. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” She touched two fingers lightly against the map again. “Residual distortion probably.”

“From the battle?” Maelis asked.

“Most likely.”

The answer settled uneasily in her mouth.

Theron studied her face for another second before continuing. “Double the southern watch tonight.”

Orin nodded once and made a note.

The meeting carried on around them. Supply routes. Rebuilding schedules. Territory disputes that suddenly mattered again now that immediate survival no longer consumed every waking hour.

Normal things.

Ordinary problems.

The pack building again what the war cost.

Eryndra let herself relax into the rhythm of it slowly.

This was the part she understood best. Quiet guidance. Patterns holding together properly beneath her hands.

At one point Maelis threw a crumpled report at Orin for mislabeling inventory columns.

At another, Theron threatened to personally assign both of them to tunnel repairs if they kept arguing.

Neither took the threat seriously.

“You wouldn’t survive a day supervising labor crews,” Maelis told him.

Theron looked unimpressed. “I survived you.”

“That’s deeply insulting.”

“It was meant to be.”

Orin laughed hard enough to nearly spill ink across the reports.

For a little while, the room felt lighter.

Not healed.

Just lighter.

Later, after the meeting ended, the others filtered slowly from the chamber while Eryndra stayed behind organizing the remaining maps into careful stacks.

“You missed one,” Theron said quietly.

She glanced up.

He stood near the opposite side of the table holding a loose parchment page between two fingers.

“I was getting to it.”

“You stacked three reports on top of it.”

“That sounds accidental.”

“It wasn’t.”

Eryndra reached for the page.

Their fingers brushed briefly.

The bond tightened hard enough to sting.

Both of them pulled back immediately.

Silence.

Theron set the parchment down instead of handing it directly to her now.

“Sorry,” he said.

The apology landed strangely.

“For touching paper?”

His mouth shifted faintly at one corner. “You know what I meant.”

Eryndra looked down at the maps instead of at him.

“Yes,” she said quietly.

Another pause settled.

Not awkward.

Never awkward.

That was part of the problem.

Theron rested one hand against the edge of the table. “You said something felt wrong earlier.”

“Residual energy.”

“That’s not certainty.”

“No.”

He waited.

Eryndra exhaled softly. “It’s probably nothing.”

“Probably?”

“The battle tore through half the mountain wards. Things feel…” She searched for the right word. “Uneven.”

Theron watched her carefully.

“You trust your gift,” he said.

“I trust it when it’s clear.”

“And this isn’t?”

“No.” A pause. “It disappeared too fast.”

“That’s unlike you.”

“I’m aware.”

The honesty of that almost made him smile again.

Almost.

“You’d tell me if it became more than a flicker?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Theron nodded once like that settled something inside him.

Maybe it did.

Footsteps approached outside the chamber before Orin leaned through the half-open doorway.

“If either of you starts another council discussion without me, I’m charging emotional damages.”

Theron looked toward him. “You can’t charge emotional damages.”

“Watch me.”

Eryndra shook her head slightly. “You invented at least half the council procedures currently in use.”

“Leadership is mostly confidence and organized paperwork.”

“That explains why you enjoy it,” Theron muttered.

“Exactly.”

Orin stepped fully back into the chamber carrying another set of revised supply tallies. “Also, Maelis threatened violence over the food allocation again.”

“That feels inevitable.”

“I told her threatening bureaucrats isn’t productive.”

Theron raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“She called me a coward.”

“That sounds just like her.”

Orin looked betrayed by the lack of support.

Eryndra laughed quietly before she could stop herself.

Both men looked toward her immediately.

That still startled her sometimes.

The way silence shifted when she broke it.

Orin smiled first. “There. Better.”

“Don’t make it strange.”

“Too late.”

Theron said nothing.

But the softness in his expression before he looked away again stayed with her longer than it should have.

The three of them left the council chamber together a few minutes later, walking slowly through the upper corridor while workers moved around them carrying timber and stone.

Ordinary noise.

Ordinary life.

Eryndra let herself breathe inside it.

Then it happened again.

That same flicker.

A strange thinning in the air beside the northern wall.

Her steps slowed immediately.

“What?” Theron asked.

Eryndra turned toward the corridor shadows instinctively.

Nothing there.

No movement. No broken wards. No visible magic.

Only that brief sharp sensation like reality had skipped half a heartbeat and corrected itself before anyone else could feel it.

Gone

now.

“Eryndra?”

She frowned slightly.

“It’s nothing,” she said at last.

Theron clearly didn’t believe that.

Neither did Orin.

But the feeling had already vanished completely, leaving behind only faint traces of old battle energy against the stone.

Residual distortion.

That was all.

It had to be.

Eryndra forced herself to keep walking.

And quietly, carefully, she filed the feeling away anyway.

Only she had no idea just how life as she knew it would completely be destroyed.