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“Here!” I barked, throwing up a hand. Nat zeroed in on us with a predator’s focus, closing the distance like she floated on wind.

“Gods,” she gasped, head whipping back to me, eyes laden with the reality before us.

Blaz was one of the good ones.

And young. So fucking young.

Beyond that, if we failed to save him, it would be me and Ally on Reyna’s chopping block. No alliance would come before her son. Freya’s sob of effort and Cyrus’ livid curses told me this was a loss we couldn’t fucking sustain. “Go!”

Nat dipped her chin, scooping his frame into her arms with that disproportionate soul strength. Before she could bolt, Freya threw her hands up, slicing through the wards with a Commander’s authority and summoning a portal Nat walked directly through. Kenna and the others followed, dragging Bellatons and Paladins along with them without the practiced finesse of their priestess. A soul-deep regret burrowed into my gut.

Because we needed Magnolia.

Desperately.

She might not have the experience of her high priestess, but she had tenfold the gifts.

And I was the asshole that helped her run away.

When the golden glow of Hazelharbor slammed out of existence, those of us remaining stared in horror at where it vanished. A numb silence settled—the kind fit for a graveyard. Only when Carr set a hand on Cyrus’ shoulder and cleared his throat did I notice he was there.

“Reyna,” he breathed. “We need to alert Reyna.”

Nobody said anything. We just stood in that unknown terror, united in our silence.

Everything had been a blur. A pain-addled blur.

But one thought beat through my mind like a metronome: Alvara had done this.

Or at least her magic had.

Blaz had no reason to provide false intel, and for all the skills he’d yet to master, shielding wasn’t one of them. Only a powerful soul could punch through that line so viciously.

Those burns…

“Jesus Christ,” I breathed, palming my jaw as I turned to pace. Freya’s knees buckled, and she dropped onto the bloody sheets, looking absolutely horrified, her lips parted and eyes distant. “I’ll go to Bellaton. Freya, call the Westerlunds and ask Marcus to contact our allies to the north. This can’t wait.”

“I already reached out to Kingsley.” A southern baritone drew every eye to the doorway, where Atreus and Viktor strode in on stiff limbs, their eyes wide.

Cyrus stiffened beside me, but it was Carr to snarl, “What the fuck is he doing here?”

“Part of that whole alliance thing, Carrson,” Atreus muttered unapologetically, his eyes darkening as he looked at the bloodied row of beds. Healers began stripping the linens, as though spurred on by the newcomer.

“Nobody asked for you,” Carrson growled.

“Actually, I did,” Jo said, drawing all our focus to her apologetic face.

“What?” Carr demanded as Cyrus barked, “Why?”

“Because Blaz needs Viktor right now. Maybe even more than he needs Nat.”

“I don’t know him well enough to do much,” Viktor said apologetically.

“Contact can help,” Atreus offered. “Take us to him.”

“Absolutely not,” Carr snapped. “The witch’s sanctuary is sacred.”

“I’d wager the high priestess will understand the value of a fate weaver working beside her.”