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Toro studies him a moment longer before exhaling, his voice quieter now. “You were just a boy the last time I saw you. I often wondered where you stood in all of this . . . what had become of you, Oberon.”

Oberon meets his gaze without flinching. “The name Elias is a shield. For my safety and for yours. I’m here now, and that’s all that matters.”

A flicker of understanding passes through Toro’s expression. He nods, accepting the truth for what it is. “Looks like we have a lot to discuss.”

Oberon inclines his head slightly. “Later.”

We stay longer than we planned, helping in any way we can. It feels like a futile effort at times, the endless task of trying to clear the streets of debris, finding shelter for the displaced, and attempting to make sense of the chaos.

Zander has always been practical, and I see him working tirelessly, organizing what is left of the town’s resources and directing people to safe places.

But it isn’t the rebuilding that is the hardest part.

The hardest part comes when we have to lay the dead to rest.

There are no words for that kind of grief. The bodies we find are laid gently in makeshift graves, their faces marked by the storm’s violence, but still somehow peaceful in their final rest.

We bury the villagers’ fathers, mothers, children, those who didn’t make it through the hurricane’s rage. It is a solemn and exhausting task, each burial a reminder of how fragile life truly is.

As I stand beside the graves, watching the last of them being covered, I feel a deep ache in my chest. This is what war has always looked like in the end, not battles, not swords clashing, but moments like this. When the world has been torn apart by forces beyond our control, and all that is left is the need to heal.

I want to help them rebuild, but I know it will take more than just labor. It will take time, patience, and something that feels in short supply currently.

Hope.

But it is all we have left to give, so we work together because that is the only way forward now.

Chapter twenty-six

Trust in Me

We make it back to the stronghold, exhaustion and devastation weighing heavily on our minds.

No one speaks much, not even Ash, who usually finds a way to crack a joke or lighten the mood. Instead, we each drift off in silence, seeking the rooms we’ll be staying in this time.

Sleep comes fast and deep.

I must have slept through the rest of the day and into the next morning. By the time I finally stir, the sun is already high, golden light filtering weakly through the curtains. My body protests as I force myself out of bed, muscles stiff from the relentless storm and battle. I dress without much thought, willing myself to move. It is time for the monthly rebellion meeting.

By the time I reach the meeting room, Oberon, Zander, and Ash are already there, their exhaustion still etched into their faces. The dark circles under their eyes linger, a faint but undeniable reminder of everything we have endured. I sink into my seat just as Oberon calls the meeting to order.

He begins with the grim truth of what happened in the Southern Territories, how we failed to solidify an alliance, and how the storm ravaged the land, leaving destruction in its wake. His voice is steady but heavy, his expression unreadable as he recounts the devastation. The leaders listen in tense silence as he announces that we will be sending troops to the Southern Territories to help them rebuild.

We have only seen the destruction in one village. I can’t begin to imagine what happened to the others.

Were they able to protect each other as we tried to? Or did the storm swallow them whole?

I know the kind of power Oberon and Ash wield is rare, even more so now that the King has spent the last century hunting down Fae like them, seizing their magic, twisting it for his own gain.

Oberon shifts the conversation, his tone sharpening as he stresses the urgency of securing an alliance with the mountain clans. Since our negotiations with the Southern Territories failed, they are now our last hope for solidifying the rebellion within the Dark Realm. One by one, the leaders update him on everything he missed while we were away. He listens intently, concentration tightening his features as he sorts through every piece of new information.

When the meeting finally concludes, the leaders waste no time. Reluctantly but without hesitation, they set to work organizing relief groups to send south. We all know the cost: sending aid will weaken our own defenses here. But it is the right thing to do. Alliance or not, we can’t turn our backs on them.

Later that day, while most of the rebellion heads south, we prepare to leave for the mountains. I meet up with the others a short while later, exhaustion still clinging to my limbs like a second skin.

Oberon is the first to break the silence. “Let’s hope this trip goes better.”

Ash, finally showing a glimmer of his usual playfulness, smirks. “Thank the gods we don’t have hurricanes in the North.”