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Zander gives a small nod. “Same.”
Ash’s gaze flicks back to me. “And you got an actual letter?”
I hesitate, fingers curling slightly around the edge of my plate. “It was pretty much the same,” I say carefully. “‘Be prepared . . . and maybe one day I’ll return.’” I lower my voice even further, almost to a whisper, barely able to get the words out, “‘if there’s any part of me left.’”
The confession lingers in the air, pressing down on my chest. The fact that Oberon sent them similar messages makes my pulse quicken. What does it mean? Did he truly lose himself, go too deep into whatever hell he was forced to endure? Does he believe there is no redemption left for him? That we won’t understand the sacrifices he has made?
He told me once that his greatest fear was becoming his father, turning into the very thing he despised. Is that what this was? Did he convince himself that the line was already crossed?
I have to believe that isn’t true, that there is still something of him left to hold onto.
Ash exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, so what exactly are we supposed to prepare for? No dates, no locations, just ‘be ready’?”
Zander lifts a brow, his expression unreadable. “We need to call a meeting.”
The rest of breakfast passes mostly in silence, save for Ash’s occasional comment or half-hearted jokes meant to cut through the heavy tension settling over us. I appreciate the effort, but even he can’t shake the weight of uncertainty.
By lunchtime, the meeting hall is packed, filled with the murmurs of restless Fae.
Zander stands in his place at the head of the table, his jaw set, his posture rigid with responsibility. Whatever we are about to discuss, it is clear that for now, Oberon will not be the one leading us.
The tension in the meeting hall is palpable, whispers of speculation filling the space as every soldier and rebel tries to piece together what ‘be prepared’ could possibly mean.
Zander stands strong, his expression indecipherable, eyes scanning the room before he finally speaks. His voice is even, but there is a weight behind it that makes everyone fall silent. “We don’t have enough information to act yet,” he begins. “We don’t know when an attack is coming or where it will hit. What we do know is that Oberon sent this message for a reason. We take it seriously, and we prepare for the worst.”
A voice from the back calls out, “Should we bring in reinforcements from the Southern Territories?”
Zander doesn’t hesitate. “No. We don’t have a timeline or a location, and we don’t have the space to house them here long-term. If we move them now, we leave the South defenseless. And if the attack doesn’t happen here, we’ve just exposed them for nothing.” He lets that sink in before continuing, “We hold our ground. If it comes to it, we’ll send word when we know we need them.”
Another soldier steps forward. “What do we do in the meantime?”
“We get ready,” Zander answers. “All soldiers are to be debriefed immediately. Everyone needs an exit bag packed with weapons, rations, and supplies in case we need to leave on short notice. Until then, we make sure we’re loaded, fully stocked with weapons and provisions. Double patrols around the stronghold.”
A murmur of agreement ripples through the crowd, but another voice breaks through. “Should we extend the patrols beyond the borders?”
Zander shakes his head. “No. The stronghold is warded. It can’t be seen from the outside world. If we start patrolling beyond the borders, we will be seen. We’ll stand out, and that puts us at risk. It’s safer to keep our forces hidden where we have the advantage.”
There is a brief silence before Zander’s gaze sweeps over the room. “I want an extra watch in the towers. Any movement, anything that feels off, gets reported immediately. We need to think ahead. Anything else we can do to prepare for an unknown threat, at an unknown time and place, we do it.”
A few heads nod, others exchange uneasy glances, but there is no argument. This is all they can do for now.
Zander takes a steadying breath before adding, “If anyone has any ideas, something we haven’t thought of yet, speak now.”
“I say we take the fight to them, hit hard and fast,” another voice calls out.
Zander considers them for a moment before he responds simply, “If it comes to that.”
Silence hangs over the room, dense with uncertainty. No one knows what they are bracing for. But they will be ready.
The next few days crawl by, the stronghold busier than ever. Every corridor, every courtyard is alive with movement, soldiers sharpening weapons, runners delivering messages, supplies being counted and recounted. Everyone has their orders, their tasks, their roles to fill.
Even Zander and Ash are constantly occupied, buried in preparations, leaving me with more time to think than I want. We can’t risk leaving to train, and after what happened in the woods, I can’t risk training here either. The fear of losing control, of repeating that moment, looms over me.
So, I help where I can, assist with inventory, reinforce the barricades, and whenever there is someone not too busy, I take to the sparring ring, keeping my hand-to-hand combat sharp, anything to keep my mind from spiraling.
The anticipation of the unknown is worse than the battle itself. But if nothing else, Zander has stepped up as a leader, and he is doing a damn good job. Even Ash has settled into his role as Zander’s second, taking things more seriously, well, mostly.
Maybe one day he will get that statue, I think with a smirk.
