Chapter 71 Dante
Neutral territory bled together after a while.
Concrete and rot. Rust and damp earth. Places no one claimed anymore because no one wanted the ghosts that came with them.
We’d cleared warehouses first—massive, hollow things with caved-in roofs and broken skylights that let in gray daylight like judgment. Old shipping manifests still littered the floors in places, paper pulp fused to oil stains. We’d checked behind false walls, inside shipping containers welded shut decades ago, even crawled through ventilation shafts thick with cobwebs and the bones of small animals that hadn’t made it out.
Nothing.
Then the mills. Ancient stone structures half-swallowed by ivy and time. Water wheels frozen in place, gears rusted solid. We split into teams, checked basements, upper floors, the hidden crawlspaces workers once used to move grain and cloth unseen.
Nothing.
Abandoned houses followed—entire streets of them. Windows boarded, doors hanging open like broken teeth. Some still smelled faintly of smoke and old lives. Kids’ rooms with peeling murals. Kitchens with dishes left behind like the owners planned to come back.
They never did.
Still nothing.
My fire had stretched and recoiled with every empty space we cleared, every dead end. It wanted direction. Purpose. Something to burn.
I gave it none.
By the time we reached the edge of the woods, hours had passed. The sun hung lower now, filtered through thick cloud cover, turning everything a dull silver-gray. Neutral territory ended here—not by law, but by instinct. Trees didn’t care about borders, but something about this forest felt… old. Watching.
I stood at the treeline, boots sinking slightly into damp earth, staring into the dark between trunks.
She wasn’t here.
I knew it the same way I knew my own heartbeat. No ember tug. No answering pull. Just silence where her fire should have been.
Behind me, footsteps crunched softly. Lucian’s voice drifted closer.
“Eat,” he said. “Or at least pretend to.”
I didn’t turn. “Not hungry.”
“That’s not optional,” he replied, tone calm but unyielding. “You burn too hot when you don’t fuel yourself. You’ll crash.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do,” he said. “And so would she.”
That one landed.
I exhaled slowly, jaw tight. Lucian moved past me, setting bags down on the hood of one of the SUVs. The smell of food—sandwiches, fries, something fried and greasy—hit the air. My stomach twisted unpleasantly, more from tension than hunger.
I stayed where I was.
Then Amara appeared beside me, quiet as a ghost.
She didn’t say anything at first. Just stood close enough that I could feel her presence without it being intrusive. After a moment, she held out a cup.
“Coffee,” she said gently. “Hot. Black. You look like you’d snap the cup in half if it had a lid.”
I glanced down at it. My hands were shaking. Subtle, but there.
I hated that she noticed.
Still, I took the cup, fingers brushing porcelain. The heat grounded me a little. Just a little.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
She studied my face like she was cataloging damage. “You’re spiraling.”
I huffed a humorless laugh. “That obvious?”
“To me? Yeah,” she said. “To Lucian too. He’s pretending not to hover.”
I wrapped both hands around the cup, staring into the dark surface of the coffee like it might rearrange itself into answers.
“I should’ve never let her walk away,” I said quietly.
Amara didn’t interrupt.
“I thought honesty would help,” I continued. “I thought if I told her the truth—if I didn’t sugarcoat it—she’d trust me more. Instead, I broke something I don’t know how to fix.”
“You didn’t break her,” Amara said firmly. “You scared her.”
That didn’t make me feel better.
“She shut her dragon down,” I said. “Do you know how impossible that should be? It’s like she reached inside herself and… erased a limb.”
Amara’s expression softened. “Or she protected herself the only way she knew how.”
I swallowed hard.
“She’s strong,” Amara went on. “Not just because of the fire. She’s stubborn. Smart. Mean when she needs to be.” A faint smile tugged at her lips. “She’s survived worse than this.”
I nodded once, but my eyes never left the woods.
None of that mattered if Renee decided to break her first.
I lifted the coffee, took a sip without tasting it. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
Amara sighed quietly. “You’re allowed to be scared, you know.”
I scoffed. “I’m not scared.”
She shot me a look. “You’re terrified.”
That hit too close to home.
Before I could respond, Lucian’s voice cut in from behind us. “She’s right.”
I hadn’t even noticed him approach.
He handed Amara a sandwich, then held one out to me. I didn’t take it.
“Eat later,” he said, adjusting without comment. “We’ll keep moving soon.”
Amara took a bite, eyes still on me. “You keep staring into those trees like she’s going to walk out of them.”
I clenched my jaw. “I keep hoping.”
Lucian leaned against the SUV. “Hope’s good. But don’t let it blind you.”
I finally turned to look at him. “You think she’s deeper in neutral territory.”
“I think Renee wouldn’t keep thirty-plus captives anywhere easy to access,” he said. “She’s not impulsive. She’s surgical.”
“Then why take Seraphine so publicly?” I demanded. “Why risk exposure?”
Lucian’s gaze darkened. “Because Seraphine is leverage. Against you. Against the other kings. Against the balance itself.”
Amara stiffened beside me.
Lucian continued, “She wanted you panicked. Distracted. Burning through territory without thinking.”
I hated that he was right.
My fire stirred restlessly under my skin, frustrated by my restraint. It wanted to tear through the woods, scorch every shadow, demand answers from the earth itself.
I wouldn’t let it.
Lucian glanced at his phone, then back up. “We regroup in ten. Push farther east. Old rail lines. Subterranean access.”
I nodded automatically.
Amara reached out and squeezed my arm. “She’s not gone,” she said quietly. “I know it feels like she is. But she’s still fighting. I can feel it.”
I closed my eyes for a second, letting that sink in.
When I opened them again, the forest hadn’t changed.
But neither had my resolve.
Nothing mattered right now.
Not kingdoms. Not war. Not politics.
Just her.
And I would tear neutral territory apart piece by piece if that’s what it took to bring her back.