Fighting with everything they have, refusing to surrender, refusing to break.
But they’re losing.
Not because they’re weak, but because the prince sent an overwhelming force, because he’s willing to sacrifice dozens of his warriors to take what he wants, because this was never about a fair fight.
This was always about breakingthem.
About breakingme.
The vision focuses on the fractured crystal dome at the center of the main club room, and I see the space where Raze’s flame used to burn, now empty and dark. The symbolism hits like a physical blow to the chest. His fire is back inside him, burning through his veins, no longer contained in that crystalline prison.
He’s whole again.
He is powerful.
Everything he was meant to be.
And it might not be enough.
“They die well,” the prince comments, tone carrying approval like he’s complimenting particularly entertaining theater. “Your dragon has built something impressive. A family of monsters who actually care for each other.” He looks at me, winter-ice eyes assessing. “But caring makes them vulnerable. Love makes them weak.”
Something snaps inside me. Not breaks. Snaps into place, like a puzzle piece finally finding its position. “You’re wrongabout them,” I force out through a throat that wants to close around sobs. “Love doesn’t make them weak. It makes them fucking terrifying.” I straighten despite the chains, despite the cold eating through my bones, despite everything screaming that I should stay small, quiet, and broken. “Because they’re not fighting to protect territory or reputation or power, they are fighting for family. And familydoesn’tsurrender.”
The prince’s smile shifts, becoming something sharper, more interested. “Is that so? Then watch this.”
The vision zooms in on the main club room, focusing on the front entrance where the fighting is thickest. I see Raze in partial dragon form, scales crawling over his arms and shoulders, fire and ice spiraling together as he tears through fae warriors with claws that freeze and burn in the same breath.
He’s terrifying.
Everything a dragon should be.
But something about the movement feels… delayed. Like the world lags half a heartbeat behind him.
The prince lifts one elegant hand, and the battle shifts.
More fae pour through the doors, through shattered windows, through walls that fracture under silver magic that glows too bright, too smooth, like paint instead of power. They don’t fight like soldiers. They move like a tide scripted to rise, endless and convenient, filling the club room faster than physics should allow.
Maul goes down under a crush of bodies, but his fall is too clean, like gravity forgot to be brutal. Wreck staggers, shadows flickering thin around him as a spear pins him to the floor, yet no frost creeps outward the way it always does when he’s hurt. Bennett’s wings flare under a rain of arrows that strike with perfect symmetry.
“No…” The word slips from me before I realize I’m speaking.
The prince doesn’t look at the vision. Instead, he watches my face. “Theycannotwin this,” he murmurs.
Raze roars, fire lashing outward, ice following in jagged spirals, but every warrior he drops is replaced by two more that step into place too quickly, as if the space between breaths doesn’t exist here.
Scar lunges toward a fae cluster, and for a flicker of a second, his eyes look… empty. No hunger, no fury, just movement without intent.
My stomach twists.
“They’re losing,” I whisper, even as something deep in my chest protests.
“Yes,” the prince says softly. “And they will continue to lose untilyouchoose correctly.”
Another wave crashes through the club room. Ivy’s vines ignite instantly, turning to ash before they even have time to tighten. Luna’s water fractures midair, shattering like glass instead of flowing. Flux stumbles between forms, caught in a loop that repeats the same motion twice, wolf to hawk to wolf again, like a story being rewritten on the fly.
“Stop…” My voice breaks. “Stop hurting them!”
The prince’s smile deepens, pleased in a way that makes my skin crawl. “They are outnumbered,” he says gently. “Even dragons drown eventually.”