Now Fien was riding straight into the heart of Zela like she owned the damn place.
Zela—Jim's favorite city. Even in ruins, even broken under Ozelean rule, he loved that wreck like it was sacred. But it wasn't just sentimental. There was unfinished business. The kind that kept your soul itching. Zela had Shæz and Gulutel. Jim's closest ride-or-dies. The last of the real ones.
"One good thing. Just for Jim," she muttered to herself, hair whipping in the wind, fingers tight on the scepter. "Then I'll go full chaos queen."
Because if she was gonna raise hell, Gulutel needed to be in it. That Denefremim war freak wasn't just muscle. He was strategy, rage, and loyalty packed into one angry badass.
Meg hit Zela like thunder. Super speed, hooves sparking, the air around him warping like time didn't apply.
The Ozeleans didn't even blink fast enough. Fien jumped off mid-charge—graceful as hell—and landed like a bomb. With the scepter in her hand, she moved nearly as fast as Jim once did. Ghost mode activated. She didn't fight. She un-existed them. Twenty Ozelean soldiers? Gone. Sliced, diced, blinked into the void. No speeches. No mercy. No problem.
She found the prison buried in the belly of Zela—ugly stone, bad smell, and worse lighting. She kicked it open like she paid the rent and wasn't gonna wait for a key.
She freed everyone. Male, female. Thirty Denefremim warriors and one lonely-ass Miteon with only one wing and a pissed-off stare. That was enough for a damn army. And then there was her.
Shæz. The only woman in the room. And the only one with a gaze sharp enough to slice Fien's pride in half.
Yeah… Shæz didn't trust her. Not one bit.And honestly? Fien didn't blame her.
She gathered the crew. Her new little army—dusty, half-starved, but fired up like they just walked out of a movie trailer. Fien stood before them, still dripping that chaotic hot-mess energy only she could pull off. Deep down, though? She knew she had to face Shæz and Gulutel. Yeah, she'd freed them, but trust wasn't exactly flying around like free Wi-Fi.
They'd watched her leave with Jim. Now she was back… solo. No Night Rider in sight.
She cleared her throat. "Zela," she said loud, chin up like some kind of war princess. "We need to gather ourselves and fight against Hennekas."
There it was—the magic phrase. The damn codeword. Everyone hated that smug Ozelean bastard. Boom—instant unity.
"We have the Night Rider with us," she lied with the smoothness of a seasoned politician. "And I'm sure, with him, we'll thrive."
The crowd went off. Like straight-up football-stadium loud. Fists in the air. Hands clapping. Some guy probably cried.
"Will you join me?" she yelled.
The response? A full-on battle cry—except Shæz. Yeah, of course she didn't yell. That girl had more trust issues than a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.
After the roaring died down, Fien pulled Shæz and Gulutel to the side like, "Let's talk." They walked off, casual-like, but the tension? Yikes. You could cut it with a freakin' toothpick.
She didn't even wait for them to ask. "Jim's gone up there," she said, pointing vaguely at the sky like some spiritual TikTok girl. "To meet with the Setrums. And he told me what to do."
Total BS. But she sold it with that calm, persuasive was-once-a-Setrum energy.
"Join me, Shæz."
Shæz stared at her, probably calculating six different ways this could be a trap. But the scepter of the end? That shit was glowing in Fien's hand, humming like it was juiced up on caffeine and ancient magic. It did things to people. It made you believe.
And honestly, this wasn't the first time Jim pulled the ol' disappear-and-come-back stunt. The guy had a habit of popping in and out of people's lives like an emotionally unavailable ex.
So… they nodded. Hesitant, but they were in.
But here's the thing—Fien wasn't ready. She hadn't figured out how to fully control the scepter. She had maybe, like, 5% mastery and was winging the rest with pure sass and adrenaline.
They needed more warriors. More chaos. And a whole lot of luck.
So Fien laid it all out for the real ones—her inner circle: Shæz and Gulutel. The room, if you could call that busted rock chamber a "room," was tense but low-key electric. This was it. Strategy time.
"First of all," Fien started, standing with that don't-mess-with-me posture, "we're going to war with the new city of Steza."
Silence. Then Shæz gave a slow nod. "Huh. That actually sounds... solid."
Steza wasn't just some random dusty village—it was the Denefremim stronghold for all the fence-sitters. Over a million warriors strong, led by Dezo the Hunter, a political mastermind with big 'I'm-staying-neutral-until-it's-convenient' energy. The guy was probably just waiting for the throne of Senedro to crack so he could swoop in like a damn vulture in designer armor.
"Steza alone can't take Hennekas," Shæz said, arms crossed, clearly already two steps ahead. "But taking it with just thirty of us? That's gonna be a suicide mission."
Fien shrugged. "Yeah. I know."
Shæz squinted at her like, Girl, you better have more than that.
"And if we somehow do take Steza," Shæz pushed, "what next? What's the game plan?"
Gulutel was quiet. Just watching. The guy had the poker face of a thousand-year-old monk, and Fien never really knew what was going on in his head. Maybe that's why Jim had liked him. Meanwhile, Fien just hit them with it straight.
"Truthfully?" She sighed. "I got nothing. No plan. Nada. We're freestyling this war."
Shæz blinked. "Seriously?"
"Deadass," Fien said. "We'll figure it out on the ride."
Shæz stared at her for a beat, then just... laughed. Like a short, sharp burst. "This is the dumbest shit I've ever agreed to. Let's go."
Fien smirked. "That's the spirit."
Then Shæz leaned in, dropped her voice like she was pitching an idea that could either save them all or get them killed. "Okay... then hear me out. If we get the Steza army on our side, what if—just what if—we hit Dalab next?"
Fien froze. Boom. There it was. The thought she'd been trying not to say out loud since day one. Dalab. Her city. Her baby. Her Vegas. The place she bled for, built from dirt and dreams—and then lost. It wasn't just politics. It was personal.
She didn't respond right away.
Because yeah, that was the plan. It had always been the damn plan. But saying it out loud? Admitting she still wanted that crown, that power, that glory? That felt like baring her soul. And screw that.
All she said was, "Maybe."
But in her head? It was hell yes. Dalab wasn't just a dot on the map. It was everything. And this time, she wasn't coming back to beg for a throne—she was coming to take it with a damn army.
There was a moment of silence. Then Gulutel finally spoke.
"Steza won't fall easy," he said, voice like gravel and smoke. "But if we get their loyalty, you've got yourself an empire."
Fien cracked her neck. "Then we better make sure they see what we're bringing. No hiding. No tricks. Just force, flair, and a little old-fashioned chaos."
"Sounds like a party, but not." Shæz muttered, shaking her head.
Fien grinned. "Let's give 'em a show."