Chapter 103 Whatever The Cost
Daisy stood alone on the city wall, her breath fogging before her like the last warmth before the storm. River mist clung to the stones under her boots, each step a silent prelude to what awaited. She tried to ignore the moon's cold gaze, a god's eye already cast in judgment. Beneath the chill, a grave threat loomed, urgent and imminent. Known as the Chain Keeper, Daisy was entrusted with the city's protection, a burden she felt with every breath. The city wall was never comfortable. In summer, it baked under the sun, the stones holding heat until midnight. In winter, the wind cut through the cracks and made every breath sting.
She liked being alone up here. The sounds of Brightwater faded away, leaving only the creak of signal mirrors and the wet slap of water against stone. The city had its own scent, a mix of river brine and the faint, sweet aroma of the flowering alders that lined the canals. It clung to the air, grounding her in this place. The city behind her was still asleep. The city ahead was waking up, one torch at a time along the Ironclaw lines. Daisy counted three new fires since she'd climbed up—enemy camps, set in a spiral pattern like the Veilseeker diagrams from Mira Stone's stolen books. It was a small detail, but it was frightening. The enemy wasn't just marching; it was putting on a show.
She leaned on the battlement, following the enemy’s formation with her eyes, then glanced down at the streets below. Other lights moved here and there, less steady and more anxious. These were her people: city militia, apprentices in borrowed armor, women with their hair tied up and serious faces, older men carrying arrows or buckets of slaked lime. Even the beggars had jobs now, watching the alleys for shadows. Daisy felt the pull of the chain within her, a mystical bond that tied her life force to Brightwater’s safety. The chain connected her consciousness directly to the city’s boundaries and inhabitants; with each surge of threat or disturbance, she sensed it as a physical vibration running through her core, alerting her to breaches or malice directed at Brightwater. It was not just duty that bound her—like an ancient legacy, the chain hummed with a power only she could wield, resonating with every sign of danger and amplifying her awareness of both the city’s vulnerabilities and strengths. She fell from the wall, but caught herself. High above, something massive cut across the moon: a dragon, wings outstretched, tail trailing smoke. She felt the downdraft as it passed, the slap of hot air against her face. Xeris circled once, then dipped lower, landing on the outer parapet with a grace that belied his size. The wall shook, dust raining from a thousand loose stones.
He crouched there, huge, his scales shining like fresh blood. Daisy watched him flex his claws, careful not to scratch the old stone, and his eyes, gold and slitted, scanned the horizon for threats. Even resting, he looked ready to leap into the sky at any moment.
She stepped closer, feeling braver as the ward hummed under her skin. “You see them?” she called, her voice just above the wind.
He answered with a deep rumble, "Too many." Even as a dragon, his voice sounded like a landslide. "The pattern is wrong. They want to divide, not destroy." Just beyond the reach of the moonlight, a line of black banners unfurled, each emblazoned with a white hand, fingers splayed—a symbol of division, stark against the night sky. This was no ordinary army; it was a strategic force with a purpose as clear as the emblem they carried. Known for their cunning and relentless pursuit of power, the Veilseekers were whispered about in fearful tones throughout the kingdoms. Their past actions left cities in ruins and alliances shattered, making them a foe not to be underestimated.
Daisy nodded, remembering the garden’s deceptive calm. Last spring, beneath the dappled sunlight, she and Mira Stone had laughed together, retelling stories of the Siege of Three Bridges and the victory over the bandit lord Fennick. They had been so certain their allies were loyal, despite Oliver’s quiet warnings. But it was there, amidst the vibrant azaleas and late tulips, that Cassien, a sworn friend and former comrade, revealed his allegiance to the Veilseekers, stealing the city’s map and vanishing into the night. The betrayal had exposed vulnerabilities they had not imagined, shattering their trust and marking the first true break in their unity. The memory shimmered with the sharp division between past triumph and the pain of lost trust, and although the laughter had faded, the lesson remained. "They’ll try to break the city from the inside," she said, the weight of the garden’s lesson settling into her bones.
He lowered his head so one huge eye was level with hers. “You can stop it. You are the chain.”
She reached up and pressed her palm to his snout, feeling the cool, almost glassy surface of his scales. “Not alone,” she said, the words for herself as much as for him.
She noticed movement: Oliver, halfway down the wall, matching her steps but staying back. He blended into the shadows, but Daisy recognized how he walked. Once, during their missions in the Whispering Woods, they had synchronized their steps to avoid traps set by bandits. They were younger then, reckless, and filled with dreams of heroism. She wondered if he knew how much she needed him, or if he thought she kept him close just for old times’ sake.
She turned back to the horizon. The enemy camps flickered, and then more fires appeared, one by one—not in a spiral now, but in two mirrored arcs, like pincers closing around the city. It was the Veilseeker signature, clear as day. Daisy’s throat went dry.
She pulled the pendant from under her shirt. Oliver had carved it from an old peach pit—a daisy, with slightly uneven petals and a surface worn smooth from her nervous habit of rubbing it. She pressed it to her lips, then put it away, feeling its weight like a promise.
Xeris stood up and spread his wings. Moonlight shone on the edges, making them look almost white. He took off, thunder echoing behind him, and disappeared above the fog. Daisy knew he would circle until dawn, burning anything that tried to cross the wall, but she also knew the real danger was elsewhere.
She heard Oliver’s footsteps behind her. He stopped just out of reach.
“You see the lights?” he asked.
She nodded. “It’s starting.”
He stayed still, but she felt his warmth at her back. “You think we’ll make it?” Oliver’s voice sounded so human, so fragile next to the dragon’s.
Daisy closed her eyes tight, letting the chill of the wind sharpen her thoughts. She clenched her fists, feeling the familiar weight of her gauntlets as she loosened and tightened them, testing their resolve as if they alone could hold back the tide. Her breath steadied, and when she opened her eyes, they were determined.
Oliver hesitated, then placed a hand on her shoulder. "If you fall, I fall with you."
She smiled, her teeth clenched against the cold. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Yeah,” he said, “but it’s true.”
They stood in silence as the wind pulled at their clothes and the first moonlight glinted off the river below. Far away, the enemy’s chant started, so low it was almost a vibration, spreading across the water like a curse.
Daisy flexed her fingers, feeling the chain inside her wake up. She had trained for this, bled for it, and learned from dragons, thieves, and the oldest, coldest council in the world. During her time with the council, amid icy winds that swept through the ancient halls, she learned to read the subtle shifts in people and situations alike. She recalled the grueling months spent mastering deception with the thieves, learning to anticipate an opponent's move by watching their eyes and posture. Yet, it was the dragons who taught her a lesson that could turn the tide of any conflict. One timeless lesson echoed in her mind, a simple phrase they had drilled into her: 'In stillness, find strength; in chaos, find clarity.' She was as ready as anyone could be.
She turned to Oliver, saw the fear in his eyes, and loved him for it.
Above them, Xeris flew in circles, his breath turning the clouds a deep, unsettling red. The heat from his fiery exhalations was palpable, brushing against Daisy's face like the dry warmth of a distant bonfire. Nearby, Oliver inhaled the sharp, metallic scent that lingered in the air, a reminder of the burning stakes above them. They both felt it, an ominous signal that the stakes were real and close, binding the breathtaking sight of the dragon to their imminent reality on the ground.
The waiting was over. Daisy squared her shoulders and gazed out at the enemy lights, acutely aware of the battle that lay before her and the sacrifices it might demand. As she steadied herself for the coming conflict, an unwavering resolve settled within her. She would face the storm, whatever its cost, determined not merely to defend the city but to emerge from its trials transformed.