I didn't sleep after the pact was renewed.
The night was thick with something I couldn't name tension, maybe. Or prophecy still lingering in the corners of the flame chamber. The silver light of the Axis Flame had dimmed, but it didn't vanish. It curled low, coiling around the base of the pyre as if waiting.
Lucas stayed with me in silence. We didn't touch. We didn't speak. We just breathed together in the dark.
When morning came, it brought more than sunlight.
It brought letters.
Dozens.
Scrolls sealed in old wax, stamped by packs I hadn't heard from in years. Some from as far as the Southern Wastes. Others from mountains that still whispered of dragons long dead.
Ashara laid them on the stone table in the center of the council hall.
"They know," she said softly. "They all know."
Lucas stepped forward, picked one at random, and cracked it open.
He read the contents and handed it to me with tight lips.
"We do not fear the child. We fear being left behind."
