Dear readers, if you’ve gotten to this Chapter and suddenly can’t read forward, don’t panic. 23 more Chapters are waiting to be written and uploaded. 👀✨

So... how about we make a little gift trade?

You send gifts that would boast this book popularity, and I’ll rain Chapters. 🤭

The more support of votes and gifts this book gets, the faster I’ll start releasing the locked Chapters one after another. Trust me, things are about to get intense, and you do not want to be left hanging where this story is headed.

Deal? ❤️

.......

Torak sat behind the desk in the study he shared with Xanden. The room was dim despite the hour not yet fully surrendering to night.

A single lamp burned low on the table, casting long shadows across the scattered parchments and the map spread wide before him.

The map was that of the North border.

His fingers rested against the edge of it, unmoving, though his mind was anything but still.

He reached for the glass beside him.

The whisky burned on the way down, sharp and immediate, but it did nothing to quiet the storm sitting behind his ribs.

He poured another, and drank it just as quickly. His jaw tightened as he set the empty glass down harder than necessary.

His gaze drifted back to the map. There were lines drawn in ink marked territory. Unlike the reality beyond it, the humans had crept closer.

Not by miles, but by intent.

The distance between their lands and the humans had shrunk into something dangerously small. There was almost no distance between the north borders and the humans.

Torak leaned back slightly, his fingers pressed against his temple. He had said it already, more than once. He had told Xanden a thousand times to assemble the council members, and they should strike first.

He needed them to do that before the humans learned more, before they organize, and before they understand what they are truly dealing with.

Xanden had asked him to wait, and to hold back.

Torak’s jaw clenched.

Humans were not creatures to observe. They were unpredictable. Weak in body, but reckless in strategy.

And worse, they would always adapt. Give the humans time, and they would turn their fear into weapons.

Weapons that didn’t care about balance, or rules, or consequence. They would turn their fears into weapons meant to destroy, and perhaps shatter them from the inside.

Humans are almost no different from witches.

Another breath left him, heavier this time. His fingers curled slightly against the wood of the desk.

If war came....

The thought made something dark shift in his chest.

A knock sounded against the door, breaking the train of his thought at the right time.

Torak straightened immediately.

He folded the map in one clean motion, pushed aside, and covered it with a stack of papers as though it had never been there.

"Come in." He permitted.

The door opened quietly.

A maid stepped inside, closing it carefully behind her.

"Good day to you, Mr. MacKenzie," she greeted, bowing lightly.

Torak gave a brief nod. "Good day to you too."

His eyes lingered on her for a second. When she said nothing, he decided to speak first. "You—"

"I..." she interrupted softly, then faltered.

Her gaze flickered briefly around the room.

Torak noticed. His posture shifted just slightly.

"I have a message," she continued in a whisper, "from Lady Blackfen."

Torak stilled. Everything in him immediately locked up. Then, just as quickly, he leaned back.

His expression hardened. "Return the message to her." His words came without hesitation.

The maid shook her head immediately. Her fingers tighten slightly at her sides.

"I can’t," she said, quieter now, but firm despite the tremor in her voice. "I owe the lady my life."

Torak’s gaze flickered to her, daring her to go on. To his surprise, the maid went on.

"She seems to be in distress," the maid added. "If she needs me to deliver this discreetly, then I will. Please... you must have this."

Silence stretched between them.

Torak’s eyes dropped briefly to the table, then he lifted his gaze again to her, sharper this time.

"Are you sure this message is from her?" he asked carefully. Her father was still around.

The maid nodded quickly. "I swear it is. You have my word."

Torak exhaled slowly. A quiet frustration bled through the sound. He tapped his fingers twice against the desk.

Then he gestured lazily towards the table.

"You can drop it here." He ffinally agreed.

Relief flooded her face almost instantly. She stepped forward and placed the letter on the table respectfully.

"Thank you, Beta Torak."

He didn’t respond. He only gave her a slight wave of his fingers.

"You can leave."

She bowed lightly and exited as quickly as she had come.

The door clicked shut behind her.

Silence returned to the study room as it had been before the maid’s arrival. Torak didn’t touch the letter.

He stared at it.

It sat there, small, harmless, and far more dangerous than anything drawn on the map he had just hidden.

His jaw tightened.

Slowly, he pushed his chair back and stood. He walked toward the window. The air there was cooler, and he welcomed it.

He looked below as the castle grounds moved in quiet rhythm. Servants around carried water and guards rotated their shifts.

Life continued normally down there.

Torak rested his hands against the edge of the window. His gaze dropped lower. His mind didn’t stay there long as it drifted back to the letter.

A sharp breath left him in frustration.

He straightened and turned away from the window. The walk back to the table felt longer than it should have.

When he reached it, he didn’t sit. He picked the letter up between two fingers, held it, and studied it.

Opening it meant reopening something he had been forcing shut. Opening it would be him opening something he had no control over.

His grip tightened slightly around the letter for a second. He considered not opening it at all, and walk away.

Perhaps, he should burn it unopen, and pretended it never came. Unfortunately, he didn’t.

Slowly, he broke the seal. The sound was quiet, but it echoed louder in his chest. He drew in a sharp breath, and shame followed immediately.

He hated it. He hated that something so small could hold him like this. He hated that she treated him this disposable, and hated it more that he allowed it.

He unfolded the letter. His eyes moved across it quickly. The letter was short as always, and that was all he needed to be certain it was from her.

She wasted no words in the letter. "Come to the abandoned stable at the south wing." the letter read, with her name beneath it.

There was nothing more attached to the letter.

Torak’s chest rose sharply. His fingers curled around the letter, crumpling the letter slightly. He turned without thinking, and walked to the fireplace. The flames crackled softly, steady and alive, welcoming him. He softly placed the letter into it. He watched as the edges curled. The ink blackened, and her name disappeared first.