"So, what do you think of our handling of the Outer District so far?" Julius asked.

"It’s a considerable improvement. I’m surprised you haven’t done anything about the people in the inner district, though."

"We made a deal with Cael and Evelina to leave them alone for now," Lillian replied for Julius. "Apparently, they’ll handle them when the time comes."

Azrael’s presence alone had shattered the usual chaos of their sector. Where minor fights and riots once flared up regularly, leftovers from Julius’s old support of a rebellion, there was now complete silence. Even the streets themselves were empty.

Julius and Lillian both knew exactly why.

Even those without magic could sense Azrael’s sheer magical dominance. No one wanted to test that.

"Still," Azrael continued, "compared to yours, I find Arden and D’Arclight’s sector far more bustling. They even have automated policing, surprisingly enough."

"They likely used Evelina’s assets," Julius said.

"Surprisingly, no. I checked their logs. Other than the maids who take care of the mansion, most of their dealings lack the usual D’Arclight fingerprints."

"What!?" Lillian’s shock was immediate. "You’re saying they did all that fairly?"

"Yes."

Julius looked just as stunned, but he shook it off when the transceiver in his pocket suddenly rang. He knew exactly who it was. Only one person was connected to that device.

"Brother?" He listened for a moment. "What? Evelina and Cael are back?" He nodded. "Got it. I’ll relay the info."

"What was it?" Azrael asked.

"Let’s head back to Marcellus’s estate. It’s time to discuss our actual plan."

"About time," Lillian muttered, already turning on her heel. "I was starting to think we’d been exiled to patrol duty forever."

Azrael didn’t move immediately. His eyes lingered on the empty streets, on the silence that had replaced the chaos, on the weight of his own magic still pressing against the district like a held breath.

"Your brother sounded urgent," he said finally.

"He always sounds urgent." Julius fell into step beside Lillian, his hand resting on the wand at his hip. "It’s the crown prince in him. Everything is a crisis until it isn’t."

"And when it isn’t?"

Julius glanced back at Azrael, a thin smile crossing his face. "Then he finds a new crisis."

The three of them walked through the empty streets, their footsteps echoing off buildings that had once been covered in rebel graffiti. Most of it had been scrubbed away now, replaced by fresh paint and official notices. The empire’s reach extending even here.

***

Marcellus’s estate loomed ahead of them, its gates already open, its windows blazing with light despite the early hour. Servants bustled between the main house and the outbuildings, carrying trays and linens and armloads of fresh flowers.

"Someone’s expecting important guests," Lillian observed.

"Or he’s just showing off," Julius replied.

"Same thing."

They were met at the entrance by a steward who bowed so deeply his forehead nearly touched his knees. "Lord Julius. Lady Lillian. Master Azrael. The prince is waiting in the study. He asked that you join him immediately."

"We know." Julius didn’t slow down, striding past the steward and into the foyer. Lillian followed a step behind, her sharp eyes cataloging every servant, every exit, every potential threat.

Azrael brought up the rear, his presence alone enough to make the servants press themselves against the walls as he passed.

The study was on the second floor, at the end of a long corridor lined with portraits of Marcellus’s ancestors. Julius paused before the door, his hand on the handle, and glanced back at Lillian.

"Ready?"

"Not even a little."

He pushed the door open.

The study was larger than it had any right to be, dominated by a massive oak desk that had probably been in the family for generations. Bookshelves covered every wall, stuffed with volumes that looked more decorative than functional.

Marcellus stood by the window, his golden hair bright against the glass. He turned when they entered, and Julius was struck again by the shadows under his brother’s eyes.

"You look terrible," Julius said.

"Thank you. I’ve been losing sleep worrying about you."

"You don’t worry about me."

Marcellus’s smile was thin. "Don’t I?"

Evelina and Cael were already there, settled into chairs by the fire. Evelina’s white hair spilled over the armrest, her crimson eyes half-closed, the ring on her finger glinting. Cael sat beside her, relaxed in a way that suggested he’d been here long enough to get comfortable.

"You’re late," Evelina said, not opening her eyes.

"We came as fast as we could," Lillian replied, taking a seat across from them. "We even did the courtesy of touring the Headmaster around your own territory."

*** First Person

Evelina stirred beside me, her head resting on my shoulder.

"Then I’ll thank you for that. Marcellus, if you may?"

Marcellus clasped his fingers together and gestured to a map already spread across the desk. Not just a map of Elion’s church, this was the Holy Pantheon Church. The seat of every god worshipped across the entire continent.

Including one I had met face-to-face.

I wondered how Nyx would react when this all goes down.

"According to my scouts, their schedule has moved up," Marcellus said. "We have four days until they begin the ritual."

"Are we going now? Tomorrow? Or what?" Azrael spoke.

That definitely caught me off guard. I knew they’d mentioned someone exceptional, but for it to be Azrael of all people? I wasn’t even sure Evelina and I were needed with him involved.

But I suppose godlike problems require godlike mortals. Maybe I should have brought the archmage along when they started showing off Azrael like that.

"No, we attack exactly when they begin. Makes it easier to finish them all of when they’re grouped up.

"Four days," Julius repeated, stepping closer to the map. His eyes traced the lines of the Holy Pantheon Church, the sprawling complex that had stood for millennia at the continent’s heart. "That’s not enough time."

"It’s the time we have," Marcellus said flatly. "We make it enough."

Azrael moved to the edge of the desk, his eyes studying the map with an intensity that made the air in the room feel heavier. He didn’t touch anything, didn’t speak, just looked.

"You’re thinking about the barriers," Marcellus said.

"I’m thinking about the gods," Azrael replied, his voice low. "The church isn’t just a building. It’s a nexus. Every prayer, every sacrifice, every drop of faith spilled in that place for thousands of years has soaked into the stones. The barriers around it aren’t just magical. They’re divine."

"Can you break them?" Lillian asked.

Azrael was quiet for a moment. Then he reached out and tapped the map, his finger landing on a small point near the church’s eastern wall.

"There," he said. "The foundations are weakest here. An old sewer access, long since sealed. The church forgot about it centuries ago."

"And you know this how?"

"I’ve been here for a while. I interrogated my own fair share of inquisitors."

Marcellus nodded, his expression unreadable. "Assuming we can get inside, what then? The High Council, the Grand Priest, the Grand Cleric, they’ll be protected. Not just by barriers, by the faithful. Thousands of them, maybe more."

"Then we kill them too." Evelina’s voice was calm, matter-of-fact.

"We’re not murdering thousands of innocent—"

"They’re not innocent," she cut Julius off, her crimson eyes cold. "They’re participants. By the time the ritual begins, every single person in that building will have chosen to be there. Chosen to let millions die. They deserve to die."

Julius’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue.

"She’s right," Lillian said quietly, surprising everyone. "I hate it, but she’s right. We’re past the point where we can afford mercy."

The room fell silent. Even the fire seemed to dim, as if the weight of the conversation was pressing down on the flames.

I looked at the map, at the sprawling complex that was about to become a battlefield. Four days. It wasn’t enough time to prepare, not really. But it was all we had.

"Cael." Marcellus’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. "You’ve been quiet. What are you thinking?"

"That we need a distraction," I said. "Something big enough to draw their attention away from the real assault."

"Like what?"

"You said you have the inquisitor they’ve been hunting, right? He should be enough. Show him off in front of everyone, and I’ll be just beside him to protect him."

"He’s our only failsafe, Cael," Marcellus argued.

"I can handle him. If things get rough, I’ll just teleport out."