Chapter One Hundred and Three

Chapter One Hundred and Three
Kael’s POV

Our camp was spread just beyond the border, rows of tents stretching toward the treeline, the forest flickering with firelight and the murmur of tired soldiers.

The night should have been quiet, but due to the clatter of armor, the hiss of roasting meat, and the low hum of conversations, it wasn't. My men had earned this rest, though the storm clouds still gathered like a warning above us.

I stood at the edge of the camp, arms folded, staring into the distance where the faint silhouette of Eron’s kingdom blurred against the horizon. We’d come so far, too far to turn back now.

Behind me, footsteps approached. I didn’t have to turn to know it was the general.

“Your Majesty,” he said, his tone formal but familiar. “The High Priestess and Sir Rendall hhave returned from the meeting.”

I gave a short nod, turning to him “Bring them in.”

Moments later, they emerged through the torchlight tall, robed in deep silver trimmed with runes that shimmered faintly with magic. Mira's eyes were calm just like Rendall, but the tension in her movements gave her away. Behind them trailed two priestesses and a pair of guards, their cloaks still damp from travel.

“How did our friends within the Lycan wall receive my request?”

She exhaled softly and lowered her hood. “With less grace than we hoped.”

Rendall gave a scoff, adjusting his cloak. “Less grace? They practically tore into each other trying to decide whether to call you arrogant or suicidal.”

I arched a brow, half amused. “That bad?”

“Worse,” Mira said. “The moment your name was mentioned, half the council started shouting about old wars and unburied grudges. They accused you of planning to start another conflict, said you’d use the markets as an excuse to claim new territory.”

I hummed, unbothered. “And the king? What about him?”

Mira hesitated before speaking. “He tried to hear them out. But the councilmen were… loud. Too loud. His patience wore thin before he could speak his mind.”

I could picture it from experience, a room full of old men clinging to power they barely understood, too blinded by pride to see what was right, standing in front of them.

Rendall snorted. “And then the Lycan King himself had the gall to ask if you thought yourself superior to him.”

That pulled a quiet chuckle out of me. “Did he, now?”

“Oh yes,” Rendall said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “And I told him you think yourself his equal, at the very least.”

That earned a laugh from me and a few nearby guards, a real one. “You should’ve told him I’m far above him.”

Rendall blinked, caught between amusement and disbelief. “Above him?”

I turned toward him fully, a faint grin tugging at my mouth. “Why not? He rules by title, I rule by strength. If it came to a test of power, he wouldn’t last a minute.”

Mira sighed quietly, though her lips twitched in faint amusement. “Modesty isn’t one of your gifts, my king.”

“It’s not modesty if it’s true,” I replied lightly.

A few nearby soldiers chuckled, though they pretended not to be listening. Rendall spread his hands. “You heard the man. Next time, I’ll make sure to deliver your message with more… accuracy.”

I was about to respond when the camp’s air shifted. The guards at the perimeter tensed, and the faint metallic whisper of drawn blades rippled through the silence.

Then came a voice, firm, familiar.

“Stand down,” it said. “I come under your flag, not against it.”

It was Eron.

I stepped forward as he appeared between the torches, his cloak still damp, his expression steady but cautious. Sky walked out from her nearby tent, her body already but tensed, her steps quieter than usual. The guards lowered their weapons at my signal, though their eyes didn’t relax.

“Prince Eron,” I greeted, my tone neutral. “To what do we owe the honor?”

He stopped a few paces away, his gaze flicking briefly to me, then to Sky. “My father sends word,” he said. “You have permission to pass through our lands, with certain conditions.”

A flicker of surprise rippled through the camp. Rendall let out a low whistle. “That was quicker than expected.”

Eron ignored him. “The council was… divided. Some still believe this raid will ignite war, but my father sees the reason in it. He’s agreed to lend a few of our allied scouts and soldiers to accompany your forces.”

I tilted my head slightly. “Allied support?”

He nodded. “They’ll act as guides through the border towns. It’s not an army, but it’ll help you move unnoticed.”

That, at least, was something. If being honest, I’d expected resistance, maybe even a refusal. But support? That was a rare gesture in times like these.

Sky stepped forward, her voice soft. “Thank you, Eron. Truly.”

He looked at her for a long moment before nodding. “Don’t thank me yet. My father’s trust comes with limits. He’ll expect proof that this isn’t just another bloodbath disguised as justice.”

“That proof,” I said, “he’ll have soon enough.”

Our eyes met, steady for a breath, sharp. There was no hostility there, just an unspoken understanding, we both wanted the same thing, even if we were on opposite sides of everything else.

Mira stepped closer, hands clasped. “It seems fate favors your cause tonight, my king.”

“Or tempts it,” I murmured.

Eron’s brow furrowed slightly. “When will you move?”

“Soon,” I said. “At dawn, we begin crossing.”

Rendall scribbled something in his journal. “I’ll have the men ready by first light. Supplies, scouts, formation routes—”

“Good,” I cut in. “Make sure our flanks stay hidden until we clear the first pass. I don’t want the council’s spies catching wind of our numbers.”

He nodded and hurried off to relay the orders. Mira followed to organize her priestesses for blessings and warding chants before the march.

That left only Sky, Eron, and me.

For a while, silence stretched between us, the fire crackling softly, distant voices blending with the rustle of wind.

Sky was the first to break it. “You should rest, Kael. You haven’t since yesterday.”

“I will,” I said, though we both knew I wouldn’t.

Eron gave a small, knowing scoff. “He doesn’t strike me as the resting type.”

I smiled faintly. “You’d be right about that.”

He hesitated, then said, “For what it’s worth… I hope you’re right about all this. About changing things.”

“I don’t deal in hope,” I replied. “Only in results.”

He studied me for a moment longer, then turned to Sky. “Be careful.”

She nodded. “I will.”

Then he was gone, disappearing into the dark with the sound of his horse’s hooves fading into the rain-wet distance.

I stood there for a while, watching the torches sway in the breeze. Sky moved closer, her voice quiet. “He kept his word.”

“He did,” I said. “Let’s hope his father keeps his.”