Chapter 184

She stepped back, her gaze cold and steady as it swept over the fractured barrier. What had once been seamless now shimmered faintly with cracks, the air around it rippling like a mirage. A faint smile touched her lips—one that did not reach her eyes.

This tiny fissure will be the snare.

Come, take the bait. The power you so desperately crave lies right here.

***

“I told you we couldn’t afford to let our guard down!”

Prince Hannan of Ugel slammed his hand against the table, his voice echoing sharply through the tent. Days ago, when their campaign using Dragonborn troops had ended in stunning success, he had believed victory was already within their grasp. But now, the tide had begun to turn—and the change in fortune was too swift, too deliberate.

It had been over a week since the reinforcements sent under the name of the Grandel Northern Alliance had reached the ravine.

They had never once intended to hide their allegiance. From the beginning, they had worn the Alliance’s colors openly, deceiving no one. It was Ugel that had deluded itself into believing the Alliance was a friend. While Ugel’s forces scrambled to meet attacks that erupted from every side, their focus was splintered, their command stretched thin.

“No retreat routes? You’re telling me every one of them has been blocked? The Grand Duke arrived only a few days ago—how is that even possible?”

“They must have sealed the routes as they advanced toward us, Your Highness,” one officer answered uneasily.

“What nonsense!”

None of the Ugel princes had ever faced the Grand Duke’s forces as enemies before. For years, Van Yela and the Grand Duke of Argan had been Ugel’s most reliable allies.

Prince Rihan, older and far more measured than his brother, raised a hand, silencing the agitated murmur around them. His voice was low, deliberate.

“Calm yourself, Hannan. We already suspected the Grand Duke would not take our side. Reacting in anger now will only play into his hands.”

“Play into his hands? We already have, brother! The exits from the ravine are blocked, and the enemy is pushing us higher with every skirmish!”

“Yes, and that might not be such a terrible thing. Think differently for a moment.”

He forced a thin smile, the corners of his narrow eyes glinting like a blade. “The witch of Argan is right in front of us. The Grand Duke’s greatest weakness—his little imperial consort.”

“Pregnant, no less,” muttered the vice commander of the Irrien Knights, grinding his teeth. “Everyone in Norella saw how he fawned over her. Didn’t even bother to hide it.”

“Exactly,” Rihan said, his grin widening. “That means if we take her, we’ve already won.”

“Not so simple,” the knight retorted grimly. “Rumor has it she’s protected by dragon magic.”

“Dragon magic,” Rihan repeated with a scoff. “The witch’s handiwork in Norella may have been catastrophic, yes, but that doesn’t make her invincible. If she truly bore the protection of a dragon, she wouldn’t have suffered such losses at the hands of mere Dragonborn. Her magic must have limitations—something that hinders her power.”

The proof was promising enough. Scouts sent toward the fortress had returned with good news: the impregnable barrier surrounding it had partially collapsed.

Either she didn’t know about the breach, or she did and lacked the strength to mend it.

That was all the opportunity they needed. Facing Rezette Kyrstan head-on was suicide, but storming the Argan fortress was another matter entirely.

“Rezette Kyrstan will likely try to finish us before we reach the fortress,” Rihan continued. “Which means we must reach it first. While we hold him back at the ravine, we seize the fortress and capture the princess.”

“A race, then,” said Hannan, his jaw tightening.

“Exactly. A race for time—and we strike with everything we have before they can coordinate.”

Rihan clenched his jaw, the muscles in his face tightening like drawn cords. For all they knew, the enemy’s coordination had already begun. When they had crushed Argan’s guerrillas with the Dragonborn, some of his men had reported a strange sight—an outsider climbing alone toward the upper ravine, a tall man with dark hair and a soldier’s build.

After that, the entire ridge had been shrouded in an unnatural fog for over two weeks.

If the princess and the grand duke had been together during that time, anything could have been agreed upon—alliances, strategies, even pacts of blood.

“You’re certain Rezette Kyrstan is still near the ravine’s entrance?” Rihan asked.

“Yes, my lord. Scouts saw him near the river’s lower banks just yesterday.”

So they were apart. The grand duke below, the witch above. A tactical blunder born of arrogance.

Rihan’s mouth curled. “Then she’s alone. Foolish woman. She should have stayed by his side.” He slammed his fist down on the table, his confidence swelling. “All that’s left are the tattered remnants of a dead empire. The Grand Duke may be formidable, but the Princess—she’s prey.”

He rose to his feet, his voice booming through the command tent.

“She’s just a woman who’s lost everything! Don’t let her title frighten you. Show the imperial wretches what Ugel is made of!”

The roar that followed was fierce, echoing through the valley like a promise of blood.

***

After returning to the fortress, Elise worked tirelessly, day by day, repairing and weakening the barrier that wrapped around the citadel. Beginning with the northern wall, she had opened seven small breaches across the ramparts—deliberate imperfections that would allow her soldiers to slip through.

Through those cracks, the Argan troops quietly descended into the ravine. While the Alliance forces below kept Ugel distracted with feints and counterstrikes, the Argan army would circle north and regroup beyond the Regal border.

“When the battle in the ravine ends, it won’t be over,” Elise said, reviewing the reports at her desk. “We’ll need a separate division ready to march on the capital.”

“We’ve had word from the Kingdom of Regal, Your Highness,” replied one of her officers. “They’ve dispatched reinforcements—two days’ march from the northern frontier.”

“Good. Then Argan’s troops will merge with them when they arrive.”

A week passed, and the numbers within Riosa Fortress dwindled by half. Elise planned to send the rest away before the barbarians reached the gates. Only a handful would remain with her—just enough to guard the core of the citadel until the end.

After all, she did not intend to die here. When the final moment came, she would use teleportation to escape.

But not everyone agreed with her plan.

“This is madness!” Barnon, the commander of her knights, protested. “Leaving only thirty soldiers behind? It’s suicide, Your Highness!”

“The dragon’s fire won’t distinguish between friend and foe,” she answered coolly. “If you don’t want to vanish in the blaze with the barbarians, follow my orders. My strength won’t permit me to move more than thirty people.”

“Still—if something goes wrong—”

“My safety is not your concern,” she interrupted. “Andre prepared my escape route long ago. If danger comes, I’ll go straight to my husband. I won’t use any other magic.”

In truth, Elise had been growing increasingly uneasy. It had been only a week since she and Rezette parted, yet her body was changing, restless, unpredictable. The child inside her seemed to sense the absence of its father. Her belly hardened often, a dull pressure that sometimes brought her to her knees.

The physician’s words had not helped.

“At seven months, mild contractions are not unusual, Your Highness. But if they grow frequent or painful, we must be wary of preterm labor. The best remedy is rest—but under these conditions…”

There had been no rest, only tension and exhaustion. And perhaps—she thought bitterly—something darker.

Could it be because of Sameshita?

Every day, Elise visited Andre’s old chambers. Inside the body of her late brother dwelled the dragon, Sameshita—a creature she could not trust for a single breath.

That day was no different. She opened the door to find him enjoying tea by the window, pale hands poised elegantly around a cup. At the sound of her steps, he turned, smiling with a serpent’s charm.

“Ah, my dear sister,” he greeted.

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, her hand clutching the doorframe as a spasm seized her abdomen.

The dragon’s presence pressed on her like an unseen weight. It wasn’t pain so much as suffocation—a heaviness that coiled around her organs and bones. She steadied herself, glaring at him.

“Is the spell ready?”

“Spell?” He set his cup down and stretched out his palm. A spark flared to life, dancing lazily above his skin.

“To burn this pitiful little fortress to ash hardly requires preparation. And to think the so-called reincarnation of Gallian can’t even manage that without me. How disappointing.”

“Watch your tongue,” Elise said, voice low and trembling—not with fear, but fury. “You may see this as a trifle, but I’ve staked everything on it.”

He laughed softly. “Such a sharp tongue. Gallian was the same—pretty face, foul mouth.”

His eyes, molten gold, roved over her as though she were a vessel he already owned. Hunger gleamed in that gaze—predatory, ancient.

But Elise no longer trembled. Let him gloat. Let him revel in his arrogance. When he finally entered Gallian’s tomb, there would be no mirth left in him.

Enjoy it while you can, she thought coldly. The day your illusion breaks is close at hand.

Without another word, she turned and slammed the door behind her.

***

Two weeks after her return, the barbarians finally reached the outskirts of Riosa. From the watchtower, the horizon was black with movement—men, banners, the glint of steel. The storm had come.

The night before, a carrier hawk had brought a letter from Rezette.

The Ugel army is preparing a direct assault.
They have no time to dig trenches, so expect a frontal strike before dawn.
Be ready.

That meant the final evacuation had to happen that very night.

But once again, Barnon stood before her, resolute in defiance.