The war room was buzzing before sunrise.
Trays of food floated through the air, enchanted cinnamon rolls steaming with magic, bacon that sizzled on command, fae fruit glowing with nutrients, and Sasha's version of coffee strong enough to wake the fucking dead.
Everyone was there. The mates. The Sentinels. The Siblings. Veena, Barrick, Zaiya, Nyxar, Reyna. Even the barracks heads had a floating screen to watch and chime in.
Rhiannan sat at the head of the table, her hands cradling her baby bump like it was the damn Sceptre of Power itself. Her eyes were sharp. Determined.
But across the room, a moment unfolded that made even Sasha go silent.
Gailia walked in, supported by Draven and Fenix. Her face was pale, swollen from crying, her arms trembling.
Arwen met her eyes, and in an instant, all the bravado dropped.
They rushed toward each other and collided, hugging so fiercely it looked like they might fall over.
Gailia sobbed into his shoulder. "She chose him. She chose a man over us, Arwen. Again."
"I know, baby sister," Arwen whispered, his voice wrecked. "But we don't choose like they did. We fight for each other. We protect. We love."
They broke just long enough for Fenix and Draven to wrap their arms around them both, the four of them a trembling knot of dragon sorrow and divine resilience.
Rhiannan wiped her eyes quietly. "That's what makes us different. That's why we'll win."
Back at the table, Sasha flicked her fingers and a massive magical map of the realm appeared, hovering above the table in pulsing blue light.
"So," she said dryly. "Undead lava army, halved, but not dust. A shadow king losing his fucking mind. A betrayal queen mommy from hell. And a Trial of Valor starting in..."
She blinked.
"... sixteen hours and forty two minutes."
"Should we postpone it?" Kaleb asked, arms crossed.
"Fuck no," Rhiannan said, slamming her mug down. "If we pause, they win. The people need this. They need hope."
Azarion nodded. "And strategy."
Reyna raised her hand like a fucking schoolgirl. "I saw some of the lava beasts up close. They're mutated. Feral. Not easy to kill. But they're afraid of divine energy."
Nyxar twirled a dagger. "Good thing we've got a walking goddess on our side."
Barrick grumbled, "I say we drop boulders on 'em and call it a day."
Zaiya rolled her eyes. "Says the man who thinks gold solves everything."
"It does solve a lot, actually," he muttered into his coffee.
Sasha cleared her throat. "If they're planning to attack during the trial, we need barracks on high alert. Volunteers rotated. Shields up."
"I'll handle the wards," Veena said, standing. "And I'll rope in the dryads to help. Their plant magic is great for tracking movement."
"I'll station dragons overhead," Elisha added. "Anyone sneaking up on us is getting roasted mid sentence."
Rhiannan smiled at her chaotic, beautiful, ride or die crew.
"Alright," she said. "Let's get the fuck ready."
Everyone stood, hands flying to tasks, magical lists appearing midair, breakfast trays vanishing as quickly as they came.
But as Gailia walked by Rhiannan, she paused and leaned in.
"Thank you," she whispered. "For being the mother I never had."
Rhiannan touched her cheek. "No, baby. You're the mother now. And your girls are never going to doubt where they stand."
The courtyard of the castle was alive with the electric energy of possibility. Sixteen hours remained until the Trial of Valor began, and the portals had already started lighting up the skies above like shooting stars on fire. They cracked open one after another, and with each arrival, the courtyard grew louder, fuller, and more chaotic. Warriors, mages, rogues, and shifters poured through from every corner of the realm, answering the call.
Sasha and Gailia stood at a check in station near the main gates, Sasha's glowing holoscreen flickering wildly as names, magical classes, and rank preferences populated in real time. Gailia, with the twins nestled in enchanted dragon carriers beside her, greeted each arrival warmly but firmly, assigning barrack quarters and keeping the lines moving.
Rhiannan, radiant despite the exhaustion showing behind her glowing eyes, walked among the flood of arrivals, her bump cradled beneath soft, draping robes. Her mates flanked her protectively, but she paused often to hug soldiers, crack jokes, or whisper encouragements. "Train hard. Lead with honor. And remember, this isn't just about ranks. It's about earning your place in something bigger than yourself."
FaeNet was losing its fucking mind.
Comments flew faster than the coding could refresh:
👤@SwordWitchLyla: "Y'all… the Goddess just told me I can do this and I may never recover emotionally."
👤@WolfpackReaper: "Trial of Valor 16 hours out. My claws are sharpened, my ass is hydrated. Let's gooooo."
👤@BoomBoomWitch: "Who else trying to win a rank just to flirt with Kaleb? Be honest."
Meanwhile, Mo, Mela, and Riven Nightshade were already up to no good. The trio was lounging near a stone bench, snacks in hand, and a holo projection of the betting pool glowing in the air beside them.
"I'm not saying we rigged it," Riven said with a smirk. "I'm just saying the odds are suspiciously in favor of that one guy with three swords and a speech impediment."
Mo grinned. "He's got main character energy. People love that shit."
Mela hummed, twirling her hair. "Let's just make sure no one dies stupidly. Or worse, embarrassingly."
Random POV - Tazren Voss, Shadowblade Mercenary
Tazren leaned against a wall, wrapping bandages around his forearms, eyes scanning the chaos of the courtyard. His black bladed daggers hung at his hips, humming with latent magic.
"I didn't come here to play soldier," he muttered. "I came to prove to myself that I'm more than a contract killer. Maybe even earn a place in something real."
Random POV - Mira Greenthorn, Forest Witch Initiate
Mira clutched her staff, watching the Goddess move through the crowd. She felt a lump rise in her throat.
"She spoke to me once in a dream," Mira whispered to no one. "Said I'd help change the future. I don't know what that means, but if I pass even one stage, maybe I'll finally feel like I deserve to be here."
Random POV - Brash the Half Ogre Cook
"I just wanna be the guy who runs the mess hall one day," Brash said cheerfully, petting his enchanted ladle. "They said I gotta do the trial to get taken seriously. So fine. I'll smash some shit, earn a rank, and then cook for the whole damn kingdom."
As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, Rhiannan and her mates regrouped near the command tent, watching the flood of hopefuls finish check in. The excitement, the nerves, the need was palpable.
Arwen turned to her. "We did this."
Rhiannan gave a soft smile. "No, they did this. We just gave them a reason."
She strode to the middle of the barracks and used her magic to amplify her voice.
"Warriors of Andopeer, I welcome you. We are honored to have you fighting beside us."
She paused. The crowd quieted.
"But I must warn you all, there is a chance the enemy will strike during the Trial of Valor. Stay alert. Protect each other. This trial is not just about power… it's about unity. Be vigilant. Be fierce. Be fucking unstoppable."
The series erupted in chaotic cheering.
The Trial of Valor countdown ticked down to fourteen hours and fifty six minutes, and FaeNet pulsed in sync with the heartbeat of a kingdom ready to rise.