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Empyrean Writer Starter Pack - Rough Timeline (undergoing edits to include chapters and specifics), Completed Character Chart, Map, & Flight Times Contains Onyx Storm Spoilers
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Series Warnings (updated regularly) : spoilers for all books, smut 18+ MDNI, accidental choking, violence, death, swearing, torture, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Psychological Trauma, Panic Attacks, Political Coercion, Power Imbalance, Sexual Coercion, Gaslighting, Dissociation, parental loss, Cheating, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Additional Warnings Apply
previous part
X A D E N
I forced us to relocate to my office before anyone could notice us.
Getting Liam inside unnoticed was a little harder now than it would have been ten or so years ago. We’re a lot bigger now, and the house is more guarded, more at risk.
I close the door behind us, locking it without thought before turning back just in time to see the calm facade Wren has had in place since we set out from the oak grove finally snap.
“Let me get this straight.”
Fuck, her tone. I have to fight every urge to drag her down the hall and take her the way I’ve been craving since she was in Samara, but I know she could never relax if she doesn’t get answers tonight, and I’d be too worried about hurting her this soon after getting mended.
I take up a post at the front of my desk, leaning back just enough to lean but not enough to put me at a disadvantage if needed.
“We left Liam and Deigh’s bodies in Resson because Tairn was really the only one capable of carrying them, but he was busy getting Violet to help.”
I nod once, letting her sort out everything she just learned.
“But when you and Garrick went back–”
“The villagers said they burned the bodies for us out of fear that the venin would return,” I answer.
“But really,” she says, turning sharply towards the all too familiar girl sitting beside Liam, “You found him and mended him, which we are definitely coming back to.”
The girl doesn’t flinch but accepts every statement.
Wren releases a deep sigh and reaches a hand up to run it through her loose hair, which is also not helping the urge to drag her out of here, but I tamp it down when I see her wince at the motion.
I push off the desk immediately and move to her side. “Love, maybe you should sit—”
The glare she sends me is enough to make me sit in the chair behind her instead.
“Then you spent the last three months running around Poromiel helping civilians after venin attacks,” she says carefully, her restraint slowly slipping away as she turns back to Liam, “and at no point did it occur to you to tell a single person that you were alive?”
Liam opens his mouth to respond, then closes it.
We all learned at a pretty young age not to argue with Wren when she got like this. Mostly the hard way, because when in doubt, she was usually the only one seeing things clearly.
“You didn’t think to tell anyone who loves you that you were alive?” she demands, eyes locked on Liam now. “You let us spend three months believing you were dead.” Her voice trips on the last word, and I reach up to hold her hand. “I had to look your sister in the eye, knowing I watched her brother die two weeks before she got to see him again. Do you understand how fucked that is?”
“I’m sorry, Wrennie,” Liam says, guilt flooding his voice. “I wanted to tell you, but–”
“But what, Liam?” Wren snaps, “What could possibly have been more important than telling your family you were alive?”
Well, this is going farther than I thought it would as I watch Liam go from the six-foot, twenty-one-year-old dragon rider I knew a few months ago to the boy who never stood up for himself from before the executions.
“We are your family,” she says, louder now. “All of us. We are all any of us have left, and you let us grieve you.”
Liam doesn’t utter a word, but the brunette? She straightens and decides to speak for herself.
“It wasn’t his fault.”
Wren’s head snaps so sharply that I’m sure her vision swims, and she tenses like there’s pain radiating. “Who even are you?”
My hand quickly shifts from clutching her to her waist before she can take a step forward and drag her down to my lap. “You need to breathe, Love,” I murmured in her ear, offering the quiet steadiness I know she needs.
She tries to stand, muttering to herself as she fights my arm around her waist. “Let me go, Xaden. We don’t even know who she is—”
“She’s not a threat,” I say, allowing that secret part of me to reach towards the girl. “Are you, Princess?”
It’s been nearly three years since I’ve seen the presumed dead Princess of Navarre, and still, I can tell that she doesn’t hold any loyalty to her kingdom. It’s how I know that I can bring her into the Assembly tomorrow and we’d still be okay.
“It’s good to see you, Riorson.”
Wren stills in my arms, confusion intertwining with her anger.
“Maelira was my wingleader my first year,” I explain softly, keeping her in place. “She disappeared about halfway through.”
Wren starts to settle with my explanation, so I add the last bit of information I have.
“She’s Tauri’s oldest.”
Liam perks up quickly, taking Maelira’s hand. “She’s not exactly wanting to advertise that.”
“I’m not keeping secrets anymore,” I say, more to the room than any one person, as Wren turns to face me. “If I know, you know,” I say directly to her, and I can see her gaze soften on me.
I am so in love with this girl. If I can keep this softer version of her, I will do anything to ensure it.
“Right,” Wren says, using the moment to slip free, but not before pressing a quick kiss to my cheek. “Back to the part where Liam is somehow alive.”
Liam groans. “Wrennie—”
“No.” She turns on him. “You don't get to ‘Wrennie’ your way out of this one.”
I can’t fight the uptick in the corner of my mouth.
I love the softer version of Wren, but this version just might be my favorite.
This is who I see leading Assembly meetings while I’m away, who leads our people into a battle she knows must be fought.
My lineage may not hold the province’s dukedom anymore, but I am the heir apparent to the dukedom of Aretia.
And Wrenley would have made a spectacular Duchess had we still held the title.
And if Queen had been a title in her future, one I would not allow to happen at the hands of Halden Tauri, I have no doubt in my mind that she’d be just as perfect for the role.
“You’re a gravecaller.”
What the fuck—
“Wren—” I say, reaching for our open connection while I watch Maelira’s eyes open in shock.
“Desa confirmed it, Xay. I know it’s crazy—”
“But we have a dead man sitting in front of us and someone who claims to be only a mender,” I reach for her again, knowing this has gone on too long. “She didn’t know.”
Wren shakes her head, finally turning to face me. “How do you resurrect a dragon and its rider and not know it?” Her eyes flick back towards Maelira before returning to me.
I sigh, brushing her hair back again. “The same way you still don’t understand half the things you’ve done with your signet. There’s no one left to teach you.”
And if she knew half the things she did— gods, I can’t think about how she’ll react.
“What?”
I clear my throat as I stand. “It’s been a long night,” I say. “Liam, your old room remains untouched. We should all get some rest and meet back in here for your reunion in the morning. Then you can find your squad and return to classes. You have a lot to catch up on.”
“Of course,” Liam laughs almost awkwardly as I move towards him.
Before he can do anything else, I tug him from the couch and into a hug. “It’s good to have you back, brother,” I mutter, holding him close.
“You have no idea how much I missed you guys,” Liam’s smiling now as he pulls away from my hug before his attention turns to Wren. “Wrennie–”
Wrenley wraps him tightly in her own hug. “You know I am in no way upset that you are back, right?”
Liam holds her even tighter. “What kind of little brother would I be if I didn't give you a little anxiety?”
“Your sister gives me enough, asshole,” Wren laughs. “She tried to fight Violet on the first day of challenges.”
“Sounds like Sloane,” Liam says with his own laugh.
Wren pulls back just enough to hold Liam’s shoulders. “Get some rest, Li. Tomorrow is going to be one hell of a day.”
“Good night, Wren.”
I hold my hand out for Wren to take as she backs away from Liam, leading her towards the door.
“You guys did figure yourselves out, right?” Liam asks as I pull the door open.
“Almost,” I say, my eyes fully focused on Wrenley as I guide her out the door, slowly closing it behind us.
I enter the door to our bedroom two days later to find Wren face down on the mattress.
The only acknowledgement I receive is a long, miserable groan that’s muffled by the bed. She’s still in part of her leathers, the other pieces creating a trail from the door to the bed.
“Did you eat dinner?” I ask, picking up the clothing and setting it on the desk.
I already know her answer before her groan reverberates through the bed.
I hum in understanding as I kick my boots off by the armoire. “You are fully capable of speaking in my mind,” I say, tugging off my flight jacket, “and yet you’re still choosing to communicate entirely in groans?”
And because the love of my life is nothing but a creature of habit and stubbornness, she answers me with another one.
I laugh again, settling onto the bed beside her.
“Little Bird,” I murmur, running my hand down the length of her spine, a touch she nearly moans over when I repeat it. “Do you want to sit up and have an actual conversation with your boyfriend?”
“No,” comes her muffled voice.
I gently slide my hands between her stomach and the bed, hand resting on her right hip, and roll her onto her back, despite her protests. Once she settles and her vision focuses on me leaning over her, I brush a loose strand of hair away from her face with a smile. “Hi, Love.”
“Hi, Xay.”
“How are classes?” I ask again.
She sits up beside me, resting her head on my shoulder. “History is weird.”
“Yeah?”
“For one, it’s in your father’s office,” she mutters. “Which is unsettling, considering the last time I was in there, he threatened all of us for existing too loudly in his general vicinity.”
I laugh again because that was my exact thought when Ferris insisted I take over that room nearly 5 years ago. “Why do you think I converted the old sitting room into my office?”
Her huff almost sounds like a laugh. “Also,” she adds, sighing as she does, “we’re covering the rebellion.”
My spine straightens at her words. I knew they would, but there is still so much she doesn’t know, and that’s on me.
“It’s weird knowing what everyone was keeping from me. I never knew it was that bad.”
I shift to wrap an arm around her, pulling her closer into my side. “You have no idea how many times I wanted to tell you.” The words are almost a whisper when I speak. “How many times I almost did.”
She tilts her head up to look at me.
“But Harlow was very clear on how he wanted you to live a normal life for as long as possible,” I finish.
“I know,” she says on an exhale.
But I can almost hear what she isn’t saying.
The secrets dating back 8 years sting more than the lies and secrets from the last 2 years
Keeping Aretia and her father a secret is understandable.
Keeping the truth about what was out there should never have been an option.
I should have fought harder when Harlow pulled Bodhi, Garrick, and me aside that day. Should have told him how wrong it was to hide it.
Maybe things would have turned out differently. Maybe we wouldn’t have set that precedent to lie to her about anything.
Maybe I wouldn’t be questioning whether she’d accept the ring I have stashed in my pack or not.
She’ll grow tired of the lies and secrets, no matter how many you reveal. She’ll never accept that you’ve told her everything, not when there’s one you’ll never tell her.
No, because I will tell her everything, even that one that only Sygael knows about.
“At least we all have a break this weekend.” There’s a hint of excitement in her voice, and it takes every inch of myself not to kill that joy when there’s so little in our lives. “You and I finally have a full two days without anyone dragging us into a meeting, or a patrol, or even a near-death experience.”
Zihnal, please let her not hate me.
“Suri and I leave tonight.”
And like that, I can see every dark corner she’s been hiding from me.
“What?”
The brightness in her eyes disappears by the millisecond, and I do a quick check to make sure she’s not about to run.
“Being home was supposed to mean more time, not less.”
“I know, Love,” I say softly, resting my hand on her cheek as I turn us to face each other. “I wanted to stay.”
“Then stay,” she pleads, tears welling up almost immediately.
Fuck, how had I been so blind?
Wrenley Tavis doesn’t cry, not unless she’s angry or hurting in a way no one can see until it explodes. And there’s nothing but pure hurt in her voice.
“Wren–” Something’s wrong.
I can’t leave. Fuck what the Assembly says; they can go without me.
Wrenley needs me here because she’s hiding something big and fighting it on her own.
Her eyes squeeze shut as her hands turn into fists, gripping my shirt in a vice.
“Love?” Panic laces my voice. “What’s wrong? Does something hurt?”
“Please, don’t leave me,” she mutters under her breath as another tear escapes.
“Wren, please look at me.”
It takes her a second, and a few deep breaths, before her eyes finally meet mine.
“What’s going on? Do I need to get Brennan?”
She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, just…” she pauses. “Fuck, Xay, please don’t leave me.”
I gently run my thumb under her eye, wiping away her tears.
“Hey,” I say softly. “Talk to me, please.”
I can see the war behind her eyes before she breaks completely, letting every emotion free.
“I’m tired,” she cries softly, her voice so small. “I’m so tired, Xay.”
I pull her onto my lap so I can hold her closer. “I know.”
“No,” she nearly snaps before the anger fades with a sniffle. “I know you know I’m tired. Everyone knows I’m tired. Bodhi watches me like I’m going to collapse in the hallway, Dad keeps finding excuses to hand me tonics, Imogen has threatened to sedate me twice, and every time I so much as breathe too hard, someone asks if I’m alright.” She laughs, but it doesn’t sound like her; it’s something I can’t place in this world. “I was tortured for five days, and now everyone looks at me like I’m made of glass.
“And now you’re leaving.” She mutters. “Again.” She wipes at her own tears now. “I know it’s ridiculous. I know there’s the revolution and the province and about twelve disasters trying to kill us at any given moment, and I know you can’t just stay here because I’m having a bad week, but Gods, Xaden—” Her voice cracks. “I just got you back, and I need you.”
I know this isn’t everything. I can tell by the way her explanation seems to go in a circle.
I make a mental note to talk to our friends before I leave.
“We both know I have to go,” I say slowly, choosing my words with care, “but it doesn't mean I like leaving you here like this.”
Her head lifts in almost shock.
“You think I don’t see it?” I ask quietly. “You think I haven’t noticed the way your hands shake when you think no one’s looking? Or the way you stop breathing every time someone closes a door too hard?” I drag my thumb beneath her eye again. “You think I don’t know what it cost you to survive in that room?”
Gods, I want to hold her and never let go.
“I know I’m leaving you before you’re ready, but I also know this,” I brush her hair back again, smiling softly at my girl. “You survived before I got there. You survived when you thought no one was coming. You survived long enough to make sure I had something to come back to.
“Wrenley Arden Tavis. You are the strongest person I know, and I am always coming back to you.”
She swallows hard. “You can’t promise that.”
“No, I can’t,” I say as I rest my forehead against hers. “But I can promise that I will spend every second between now and then trying.”
She lets out a shaky breath and presses her face into the curve of my neck. “That was disgustingly romantic.”
I chuckle at her revelation. “There she is.”
“Don’t sound so relieved.”
I chuckle, mockingly placing a hand over my chest in relief. “I was getting concerned.”
She pulls back just enough to glare at me. “You’re still leaving.”
“I am.”
“I still hate it.”
“I know.”
“You’re very calm for someone who is letting me be very close to their throat.”
The corner of my mouth twitches into a smirk. “Threat noted.”
She sniffs and wipes at her face. “You’d deserve it.”
“Probably.”
“Definitely.”
I’m full-blown smiling now as she starts to have her own.
“How long?”
“A few days if everything goes to plan.” I sigh. “A week if it doesn’t.”
She groan sand drops her forehead back to my shoulder.
I run my hand along her spine again, placing soft kisses on her head. “Eat with me?” I ask into her hair, refusing to pull away. “Then we can take the rest of the night to ourselves before I leave. I’ll even let you glare at me with no complaints.”
She huffs, the sound extremely close to that of a laugh. “Romance is alive after all.”
“I’m versatile.”
W R E N L E Y
“Wrenley!” A force hits the door hard enough that it rattles in its frame.
I don’t move.
“Is she even in there?” a second voice asks, lower, uncertain.
“She has to be. Second squad said they haven’t seen her all day.”
Silence follows that, the kind that stretches just long enough for concern to turn into something heavier.
“Maybe we should get Brennan.”
“Or her dad.”
I groan into the pillow, the sound muffled and useless, but it buys me exactly two more seconds of stillness before the weight of it presses in.
They’re not going to leave, I know that deep down.
I drag myself upright, the room tilting for a brief, unpleasant moment before it steadies. My body protests every step I take toward the door like it remembers something my mind is still trying to pretend didn’t happen. I yank it open. “What?”
Imogen’s expression snaps from irritation to something far worse the second she sees me. “Wren,” she breathes.
I roll my eyes and turn away from them, already retreating into the room. “I’m alive. You can all go away now.”
“Have you been in here all day?” Bodhi asks, softer now, like I might shatter if he pushes too hard.
“Didn’t want to get up,” I say with a shrug.
It’s not technically a lie, but it's not the whole truth either. The truth is a lot heavier than just the exhaustion I’ve been convincing myself is the truth.
It’s that every time I close my eyes, I’m back in that cell. Every time I open them, I half-expect to still be.
Staying in bed gave me some semblance of control over where I was. Mostly.
“We’re not doing this, Wrenley.” The shift in Bodhi’s voice is sharp enough to cut through the fog in my head. He crosses the room in three strides and hauls me upright before I can sink back into the mattress. “You are not going to waste away in this room just because your boyfriend left.”
I don’t even bother glaring properly. I don’t have the energy for it. “Leave me alone, Bod,” I mutter, already trying to fold back in on myself.
“No.” His grip tightens, not enough to hurt, just enough to hold. “Because this isn’t healthy.”
“Bodhi, please—”
“You wouldn’t let one of us do this,” he snaps. “So we’re not letting you.”
I swallow down the irritation that flares, weak and fleeting.
“Im,” he calls over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off me, “grab her leathers. Put them in the bathroom.”
“Already done,” Imogen says quietly.
Of course she did. They planned this, and I hate that a small, traitorous part of me is… relieved.
“Seriously?” I groan, dragging myself free of his hold.
“You’re going to shower,” Bodhi says, firm now, hands settling on my shoulders like he’s anchoring me in place. “You’re going to Battle Brief. You’re still my executive officer, and you’re one of the best strategists we have.” His voice softens, just a fraction. “You’ve been through hell, Wren. Worse than anything we can understand, mostly because you won’t let us.” His jaw tightens. “So if we have to drag you to classes and meals just to make sure you’re still here, we will.”
Still here.
I almost laugh, because I don’t feel like I am.
I feel like I left something behind in that cell, and whatever came back is… thinner.
Quieter.
Wrong.
“Glane says Desa called for Brennan and Harlow.”
Bodhi exhales slowly. “Please, Wren. We’ve all lost enough. Don’t make us lose you, too.”
I pull away without answering and head for the bathroom, shutting the door behind me with more force than necessary.
The quiet inside is immediate.
“Don’t run from your friends, my darling girl.” Mom appears in the corner of my vision.
I ignore her as I have for the last few days.
I have to be in that damn cell still. Why else would she still be here?
“They just want you to be okay. We all do.”
But she’s not here to want something.
Because Eden Tavis is dead, and yet she is as present in my life now as she was when alive.
Water, soap, lather, rinse, repeat.
I work through the motions as I clean myself of the sheen of sweat my nightmares have brought on.
They weren’t as bad when Xaden was here. A calm, soothing presence within the storm that is my own mind, but I can’t expect him to stay at my side when he’s leading a revolution. When others need him more than I do.
I flinch slightly at the reminder of how I begged him to stay the other day. Fuck, I should apologize. He doesn’t need to worry about me right now.
I can handle this by myself.
Water, soap, lather, rinse, repeat.
I’m methodical in my cleansing, focusing on the task rather than the memories that continuously pop into my head.
It’s a few minutes before I’m stepping out to dry and dress, taking every spare second before reaching for the door.
My father’s voice filters through before I can open it.
“Tell me exactly what she said.”
“She didn’t say anything, Uncle Harlow, that’s the problem,” Bodhi fires back. “You cannot tell me you think she’s fine.”
“I don’t,” my father says, quieter now. “But she’s still her.”
“Is she?” Bodhi demands.
“I’m trying here, Bodhi,” my father continues after a moment. “But you know her better than anyone, so you tell me what’s going on.”
“I—”
I open the door then.
“You could at least be quieter if you’re going to talk about me.”
They all turn.
My father’s face shifts instantly. Relief. Concern. Something dangerously close to fear.
“Little Bird—”
I don’t let him finish.
I cross the room, grab my boots, and shove my feet into them, yanking the laces tight with more force than necessary.
“If you want me at Battle Brief,” I say evenly, braiding my still-damp hair over one shoulder, “then let’s go. No need to make this a whole thing.”
“You know your father doesn’t deserve that.” My mom reminds me.
Why are you still here?
I pause in my steps for a moment, fingers barely holding onto my sheaths before I shake off the thought, securing the buckles around my thighs and adding the ones at my ribs.
Secure the straps, slip the blades in, tie my hair into a braid—
And step out into the hallway without a word to anyone in the room.
Battle Brief is already half full by the time we arrive.
Voices echo off the stone walls. Chairs scrape. Papers shuffle. It’s loud in the way Basgiath always is, chaotic and alive and — wrong.
My steps falter just inside the door. The room is too bright for the theatre where the boys and I grew up watching plays.
Too open.
Too—
My chest tightens.
“Wren?” Bodhi’s voice is low at my side.
“I’m fine.” I lie.
I take another step, and the door slams somewhere behind us.
The sound cracks through me like lightning.
For a split second—
Stone walls turn damp, voices turn to screams, the air turns thick with blood and iron—
I stop breathing.
“Are you okay?” It’s Sawyer, I think, the only person who can push through my shields to communicate mentally.
My fingers curl into fists as I force air into my lungs.
In.
Out.
In—
“I’m right here, Wren,” Bodhi’s voice breaks through my panic. He stands close to my left, but not touching. “You’re safe now.”
Safe. Safe. Safe—
I drag my gaze forward. Focus on something real.
The rows of cadets who chose the right side, the stage, the map with—
The map has far too much orange. Is that up to date?
“Sit,” Imogen mutters, nudging a chair toward me. I drop into it before my legs can betray me.
Around us, people keep moving.
Talking, laughing, normal.
Most of my section makes brief glances in my direction, meant to be quick and subtle, but I see them. Watching, waiting, the way the quadrant always had.
Only, instead of watching to see when I’ll explode for not manifesting, it’s to see if and when I’ll break. My nails dig into my palms.
“Wren.”
“I’m here,” I say, even though it still feels like a lie.
Even though part of me is still chained to a wall somewhere underground.
“Let’s get started!” Professor Devera says as she steps onto the stage, her voice easily carrying across the room. “Welcome to your first battle brief as traitors!”
The attention in the room finally snaps to the front.
“Get used to the sound of the word,” she says unapologetically. “Because that’s what Navarre now considers us. Whether or not that’s how we feel about the choice we made to defend those who cannot defend themselves, that is how we will be seen by the friends and loved ones we left behind. But personally, I’m proud of every single one of you. It’s hard to leave behind everything you know, everything you love, because your honor demands it. With that said, please welcome Lieutenant Colonel Aisereigh, who will take the place of the Scribe Quadrant Curator, since we don’t have them here.”
Brennan steps onto the stage, Kaelin not far behind.
I glance over at Bodhi, and he’s not watching her with that lovesick gaze anymore. Did bringing her here fix whatever was going on? How long have I been checked out when it comes to my friends?
“Hey, Wrennie,” Liam whispers from the seat in front of me, and I can’t fight the soft smile I get when I see him and Sloane sitting next to each other. “You okay?”
I nod softly. “I will be.”
“We believe in sharing information here in Aretia.” Brennan starts. “First, we’ve done as you’ve asked and kept you in your respective wings. Second Wing and Third Wing, you know that Eleni Jareth and Tibbot Vasant are now your respective wingleaders. We expect any missing section leaders or squad leaders to be replaced by tomorrow, and you’ll notify Devera of your choices.”
“You won’t choose for us?” One of the squad leaders in First Wing asks.
“Are you saying you’re not capable?” Brennan challenges.
“No, sir.”
“Excellent. Moving on.” He turns in our direction. “We double-checked the rolls to be sure, but it appears that not only does Fourth Wing currently boast this year’s Iron Squad—”
The first years that sit towards the front of our squad start to cheer; even our second years cheer as well, but it’s only Bodhi, Imogen, and me who stay silent.
“—but Flame Section has the unique honor of being completely intact.” Brennan looks down at Bodhi. “Durran, Tavis, you two brought every single cadet. I guess that would make you the Iron Section.”
Bodhi’s smile quirks up at that as I elbow his side. “Good job, Section Leader.”
“I’m assuming you’d like a patch?” Brennan asks, a smile tilting his lips.
“Fuck yes, we do!” Ridoc shouts, coming out of his seat, and our entire section cheers loudly, my own smile quirking up.
“Yes, sir,” Bodhi says once they all settle, glancing down at the rest of our section.
“I’ll see what we can do,” Brennan says with a nod and a smile. “Now to real business. We’ll start with your update from Navarre. As far as we can tell from our sources, the public doesn’t know.”
Big shocker there. Navarre keeping secrets? Never heard that one before.
“To our surprise, the outposts have successfully dispatched with the wyvern Lieutenant Riorson gifted to them, and General Melgren has kept the news from reaching the general public, though obviously all present military now know. And unfortunately, they are still turning away every Poromish citizen at the border.
“Our forces have doubled their patrols at the borders of Tyrrendor”,—he rubs his thumb along the bottom of his jaw—“but we feel confident that our location is still secret.”
“Even with flying the Continent’s largest riot across Navarre?” someone from First Wing asks.
“Tyrs are loyal,” Sloane says, her chin rising. “We lived through the last rebellion. Whatever we see, we’ll keep to ourselves.”
Brennan nods. “The good news is: as far as our extensive sources can tell, your families have not been targeted, and we are reaching out with not only your letters but offers of sanctuary. If they’re willing to risk stepping into the unknown, we’ll work to get them here.”
“What does this lack of troop movement tell us?” Devera asks, shooting Brennan a little side-eye. “Or do you not remember how Battle Brief works?”
“My apologies.” Brennan puts his hands up and stands back. “Been a few years.”
“They’ve been too busy cleaning up the mess Riorson dumped at the border to bother with us,” Dain answers.
“For now,” Brennan agrees with a nod. “They might be in shock, but don’t doubt that we’ll be fighting a war on two fronts as soon as they can get their bearings and decide how much they can risk the public knowing.”
“When do we get to fight them?” a guy from Third Wing asks, pointing up at the map. “The dark wielders?”
“When you graduate,” Brennan answers, lifting his brows in a way that makes him look exactly like Uncle Asher. “We don’t send cadets to die, and that’s exactly what will happen to you if you try to take on a dark wielder before you’re ready. You will die. Are you really so anxious to start a new death roll?”
“Sorrengail and the others didn’t die,” that same Third Wing cadet responds.
“Two of us did die,” Imogen snaps, and the rider slides down in his seat.
“Technically, one came back from the dead, so does that really count?” one of the last kid's buddies pipes, and I can see Liam sink into his seat.
Fuck, I hate this for him more than anything. I want to say something, but Devera speaks up first.
“When you wield lightning, come and talk to me.”
“Before you graduate, you’re going to learn how to take on a dark wielder and survive,” Brennan promises. “It requires a different style of fighting, and honing your signets, which you may have noticed are a bit testy up here. Remember, magic is a little wild out here beyond the wards, but we’re currently deciphering Warrick’s journal in order to get our wards operational as quickly as possible. We’re also working on getting our forge up and running to supply both our forces and the gryphon fliers with weaponry, which is part of our mission—”
A grumble of disapproval ripples through the auditorium.
“Knock it off,” Brennan chastises. “Fliers are dangerous, but they are not the enemy you’ve been raised to fear, though some are still hostile toward us, as evidenced by the attack on Samara four days ago.”
Again? Fuck, they really don’t listen.
“Which brings us back to Battle Brief,” Devera continues. “One dragon was injured, but no riders were lost in the attack, according to our sources, mostly because there was only one dragon present at the outpost during the attack—political turmoil, remember? The wards did not fail, but a drift of fliers infiltrated the post, killing a dozen infantry before two of them were killed in the lowest level of the fortress.”
“They were looking for weaponry,” Violet whispers in the row below me. “That’s where the armory is.” Navarre’s citizens might not know that we’re gone, but the drifts do.
“Say it,” Rhiannon urges from beside her.
“What questions would you ask about the attack?” Devera cuts in. “This one’s been briefing officers for too long and doesn’t remember the art of teaching.” She cuts another mean side-eye at Brennan.
“Fuck it. I’ll say it,” Ridoc mutters. Then asks at full volume: “Were they looking for weaponry?”
“Absolutely.” Brennan nods. “That’s the only reason for fliers to attack Navarrian outposts directly.”
“Did the fliers attack Samara before or after the news of our… departure from Basgiath leaked into Poromiel?”
“After,” Devera answers.
Brennan turns to the map. “On to enemy movements. In the last week, venin have taken the town of Anca. Not surprising, given its proximity to the recently fallen Zolya.”
“What’s concerning is that it appears the town was drained, and then the dark wielders pulled back to reassemble in Zolya,” Devera says. “What does that tell us?”
“They’re organized and basing out of Zolya,” Rhiannon answers. “It’s like a supply trip for an ongoing campaign.”
“Yes. They’re not just consuming but occupying territory for the first time. Good—” Brennan quiets, no doubt talking to Marbh, then focuses as the entire theater falls silent. “Everyone get to the great hall and wait there,” he orders, turning to Devera as the auditorium descends into quiet chaos.
“Wren, we have to go,” Bodhi pulls me from the seat. “Fuck, Sorrengail!” Bodhi shouts as Violet takes off through the crowd.
“Go, I got Wren,” Liam says, taking Bodhi’s place as the rest of second squad follow their Section Leader. “Wrennie?”
“I’m fine,” I say safely, pulling away. “You should go help. Farsight is probably pretty useful right now.”
“I’m not leaving you.” Liam protests, moving to stand in front of me, his hands on my shoulders. “What’s going on, Wren?”
“I’m fine,” I say with what I hope is a smile.
Leave me alone, please.
“Wren–”
“Just go! Okay?” I snap, pulling out of Liam’s hold.
Liam stands before me in shock before taking a step back. He nods, then moves to follow the rest of our squad.
“Wrenley,” My mother says from beside me.
“I’m fine,” I say it aloud as I walk down the hall opposite everyone else.
“You’re not. I thought you learned not to keep secrets?” She scolds.
“I’m not the one who’s been keeping secrets for years. That was Xaden and Dad,” I snark, pushing through the doors to Fen’s old office, “and you.” I slam the door behind me.
I twirl a blade in my hand, occasionally stabbing it into the arm of the chair.
My gaze doesn’t leave the table before me, the map reflecting the patrol routes, the only thing even remotely readable through my tunnel vision. Which route is Xaden on? Is he safe?
Will he come home on time?
“I heard a distinct crunch,” Violet’s voice comes through the door before it opens.
“You deserve it.” Mira’s voice is the next one I hear. Wait– What? “Don’t fucking touch me.”
“Leave my sister alone,” Brennan orders, sitting back against the edge of the table. “It’s a family matter.”
“Family? Family doesn’t let each other think they’re dead for six years.” Mira leans against the wall, putting Violet in the middle and still keeping me just out of sight. “The only family in this room is Violet and me.”
“Mira?” I question, sitting up in my chair.
“Wrenley?” Mira’s eyes widen as she moves over to me. “Gods, what happened to you?”
“Besides getting tortured for 5 days and almost dying from a sword through the back?” I laugh, leaning back again.
Mira sighs, running a hand over my cheek. “We’re coming back to this.”
I internally groan.
My friends and father may be willing to ignore what I’m clearly hiding, but Mira Sorrengail? There’s no getting out of this.
“Correction, the only family here is Violet, Wrenley, and me.” She says, glaring at Brennan.
“Lieutenant Colonel?” Ulices interrupts, pushing through the guards.
“Lieutenant Colonel?” Mira’s gaze swings from Ulices to Brennan, and she folds her arms across her chest. “At least playing dead for six years earns you rank.”
Brennan gives her that older brother look before turning back to Ulices. “I’m fine. Everyone can relax. I’ve had worse injuries sparring.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time I broke his nose.” Mira smiles at Ulices, a sickeningly sweet smile.
My dad brushes past Ulices into the room, immediately moving to Brennan to check his nose, holding a cloth-covered icicle.
“Well, the good news is, it’ll heal properly even if you don’t mend yourself.’ He says, passing the icicle into Brennan’s hands.
“Uncle Harlow?” Mira gapes at my father.
“Mira?”
“Deploy every rider currently not scheduled to scout the Tyrrish outposts as quietly as possible,” Brennan orders Ulices. “We need to know if other riders are deserting, or if they’re surging here in preparation to strike.”
“With all the extra riders we have,” Ulices mutters.
“Switch,” Violet orders her brother.
“What about the new riot?” Ulices asks. “Same procedure as the cadets’ arrival?”
“Riorson vouches for them, according to Marbh, but make sure the dragons do as well. Get them up to the valley.” Brennan nods, and blood trickles off his chin.
“Switch,” Violet says again, firmer this time.
Ulices glances at Mira. “You’re sure—”
“I can handle my own sister,” Brennan assures him.
“Don’t be so sure about that,” Mira counters, arching an eyebrow as Ulices departs, leaving the doorway empty but guarded outside.
“Bren?” Renna Sorrengail pushes through the door, checking over her husband almost immediately.
“Oh, you have got to be shitting me.” Mira scoffs, eyes locked onto the doorway where— well, I don’t exactly know who is standing in front of us. “I must have died because now three dead men are standing in this room.”
“Hey, Mira,” the stranger smiles almost shyly as his eyes shift to Violet. “Bookworm.” He nods to her.
“Naolin?” Violet gasps.
“What happened to your nose?” Renna asks, checking over Brennan.
“She hit me.” He mutters to his wife before looking at Mira. “I can’t believe you hit me. Do you know how hard it is to mend myself? You? No problem. Doing it for myself? Giant pain in the ass.”
“Oh, do cry for me, big brother.” Mira scrunches her face as she mocks him. “You know, the way we cried for you.” She points at Brennan. “And you,” she turns to my dad. “And you.” She says, settling on Naolin.
“I knew you wouldn’t understand.” Brennan jabs his finger in Mira’s direction and flinches. “Shit, I’m going to have to set the cartilage.”
“Keep the ice on it, Brennan.”
“Understand? Understand that you let us burn your things?”
“I’ve already had this fight with him,” Violet assures her.
“Let us watch our mother become a shadow of herself?” Mira continues. “Let us watch our father’s heart give out because your death broke him?” Mira pushes off the wall, moving closer to the table.
Oh, now I’m entertained.
“Maybe I didn’t go quite that far,” Violet mutters.
“I did,” Renna says, moving to stand between Brennan and his sister. “Mira, I know it’s a lot to take in–”
“A lot would be that everyone, including our mother, has been lying about the real enemy. That my entire career was built on a lie!” Mira shouts, nearly in Renna’s face. “This? With everything it changed about our lives? And you’re just okay with this?”
“No, honestly.” Renna answers. “I’m pissed that I went six years without the loves of my life. That I mourned them and cried more times than I can count, but they’re alive, Mira. That’s all I ever wanted.”
“Dad’s grief killed him! He could still be here if he knew!”
“Our father would understand what I’ve been doing.” Brennan’s voice turns nasal as he moves the blood dam. “And as for our mother.” Brennan stands, moving Renna aside to stand before his sister. “I hope my death haunts her every damned day. She was so willing to sacrifice my life for a lie.”
“That’s not fair!” Mira snaps. “I may not agree with what she did, but I understand how she thought it was best to keep us safe.”
“Neither were you!” she yells. “You hid up here like a coward instead of coming home when we needed you!” She gestures at me. “You chose complete strangers over your sisters and wife!”
“I chose the good of the Continent!”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Stop it!” Violet shouts, standing between her siblings the way she used to as a kid. “Mira, he was a brand-new lieutenant, and what’s done is done.” Pivoting toward Brennan. “Brennan, put the fucking ice back on your face before you stain the floors, you stubborn ass!”
Brennan slowly lifts the ice to his nose, looking at Violet like he’s never seen her before.
“And to think, I used to wish I had siblings,” Xaden says from the doorway behind Naolin, leaning against the doorframe casually, like he’s been watching this disaster for a hot minute.
“Xay,” I’m damn near grinning as I jump from my seat and run into his arms. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he says, tilting my chin up to kiss me.
It’s soft but ever so passionate. Gods, I could kiss him forever.
“Alright, break it up.” My father’s voice is the first to break through our little world.
“Ugh, seriously, Xaden?” Brennan groans.
I smile into the kiss as we reluctantly pull apart. “Are you okay?”
“Better now that you’re here.”
I settle my forehead against Xaden’s chest, listening to every beat of his heart. Fuck, I missed him.
I can hear the Sorrengails — all five of them — break into another argument, my dad trying to break them up while I hold Xaden tighter.
“Are you okay, Love?” Xaden whispers into the top of my head.
I nod against him, enjoying every second in his arms as the memories of that cell fade.
“So,” Xaden says, interrupting the arguments, “what are the Sorrengail siblings going to do now that you’re all reunited?”
“We’re going to beat the shit out of our brother,” Mira smirks, and I can’t help but laugh. Naolin is the only other one laughing.
“Survive,” Brennan adds.
It’s a comfortable silence for a moment, and we all remember that we’re alive, and we’re all here.
“I need the blood of the six most powerful riders.” Violet blurts out, and confusion covers everyone’s faces.
“Ever? Or just living now?” Xaden questions.
“Why?” Brennan asks, because that’s really the question we need answered.
“In residence, I think,” Violet answers, taking a deep breath. “I know how to raise the wards.
Nine of us walk out the back door of Riorson House hours later and begin the trek to the wardstone chamber.
Xaden and I are towards the back of the group, with the Assembly leading the way.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
No, but I can’t admit that now.
“Yes, Xay, I’m sure.”
He’s giving me that look, the one that screams that he knows I’m full of shit.
Hey, I’m still having vivid nightmares about those five days of torture, and the only time I have some semblance of peace from it is when I can be attached to you at the hip. You’re not allowed to lead this revolution until I’m not traumatized anymore. Oh, and my mom keeps popping up to add in her two bits about my life.
I think I’m good on that.
Xaden slips his hand into mine, offering a comforting grip as we enter the chamber.
“We should be using this time to discuss the negotiations with Tecarus, since we’re all here.” I hear Ulices say from beside Brennan
“Missive arrived today. He wants us to come to his aid when called,” Brennan says. “The seaside drifts are armed first, and he says he’ll let us bring the luminary back to Aretia—”
“He won’t,” Xaden interrupts as we take the only open space around the wardstone.
“— if he can see Vi wield,” Brennan finishes.
Xaden scoffs. “And if you’re willing to never see your sister again, by all means, let her show off. You and I both know Tecarus will keep her as a weapon.”
“I can talk him out of any thoughts in that direction.” Brennan’s jaw ticks.
“If there was another luminary, don’t you think we’d be negotiating for that one?” Kylynn retorts.
“Then offer him a full armory.” Xaden looks back and levels a glare at her.
“I’m not against trading her away,” I say matter-of-factly.
“We don’t trade in people. Even if it’ll solve a few problems.”
I laugh across that bond, drawing a smile to Xaden’s face.
“Fuck, I missed that laugh.” Xaden chuckles. “Do you think everyone will notice if we sneak away?”
I laugh again, barely leaning into his side. “This could protect everything we care about. At least give it a chance.”
“Oh, but I have a much better way we can spend my first night back,” Xaden smirks just as everyone positions themselves around the onyx stone.
“Let’s get this done.” Ulices gruffs, his voice echoing through the cave.
“And what are we doing, exactly, to raise the wards?” Bodhi asks from my other side.
“One second.” Violet pulls Warrick’s journal from her flight jacket and reads from a slip of paper. “‘And we gathered the six most powerful riders in residence, and the blood of the six and the one combined and set the stone ablaze in an iron rain.’” She glances around the circle. “Six”—She points to the stone—“and the one.”
“You want us to bleed on the wardstone?” Felix asks, his silver brows rising.
“I’m just telling you how Warrick and the First Six did it.” She answers with a bit of the sass I usually expect from Violet. “Unless there’s someone here more capable of translating Old Lucerish?” No one speaks. “Right.”
“By our best calculations,” Brennan says, rubbing his hands together to keep warm, “the six most powerful riders currently in Aretia are Xaden, Wrenley, Felix, Bodhi, Violet, and me.”
“I feel like Maelira is more powerful than some of us,” I mutter across the bond. No one here knows the truth about her signet besides Xaden and me at her behest. The princess wants to keep a low profile; who am I to argue?
“It’s her choice,” Xaden responds.
“Looks like there’s something to be said for family lines,” Suri notes, glancing at the Sorrengails, Xaden, and Bodhi.
“According to Warrick, the First Six bled their life—” Violet starts.
“I know I did not just survive twice to die for wards,” I mutter.
“I don’t think it means to death,” Violet quickly clarifies. “Clearly, the six lived on after they constructed Basgiath’s wards. With any luck, it’ll be a quick cut across the palm, place our hands on the wardstone, and we should have wards.”
“In an iron rain,” Bodhi says slowly.
I’m the first to draw my blade. “Well, I for one am tired of waiting,” I say as I slowly drag the blade over my palm.
“Anywhere?” Bodhi asks, lowering his own knife to just above his palm.
“The journal didn’t specify.” Brennan draws his dagger over his palm, then presses his hand to the wardstone.
The rest follow.
The stone feels… cold and lifeless, much like the stone from that cell.
My breath shudders as I hold my hand firmly in place. A chill runs up my arm the longer we stand there.
“This isn’t working,” I say to Xaden.
“I know.”
“And it won’t,” Desa says, chuffing along our bond.
“Why?” I question, pulling my hand back so that the fear creeping up my spine disappears.
Desa doesn’t answer me, as everyone, including Violet, removes their hands.
“I failed,” she whispers, her hand falling away.
“Violet, I can—” Brennan starts, reaching for her hand after he finishes mending mine.
She shakes her head, eyes never leaving the small pool of blood forming in her palm.
Xaden quickly rips the bottom of his uniform and wraps a strip around her palm.
“Thank you.” She says softly.
He nods, tucking the ends in. “You’ll try again,” he says before moving back to my side, taking my hand as Brennan mends his. Xaden gently runs his thumb over the red line that will disappear within hours.
“Now, can we please discuss how we plan to actually acquire that luminary?” Suri’s tone rises with annoyance.
“Offer the viscount twice the number of weapons he asked for,” Ulices says, his voice fading with his footsteps.
“I’ll send a missive tomorrow,” Brennan promises as the others walk out of the chamber.
Xaden stiffens as the elder Assembly members exit the chamber.
“You okay?” I ask, watching his every movement.
He shakes it off with a snarl, wrapping an arm around me as we walk. “Violet wants to go to Cordyn, and before you can say it,” He adds, eyeing me. “I will not just let her go. That’s not how we’re going to handle things here.”
“I didn’t say anything,” I say defensively.
“But you thought it.” He mutters. He looks around a second to ensure no one’s looking before pulling me into a kiss. “Let’s go?”
I nod as he laces our fingers together and pulls me away from the chamber.
Xaden’s quiet on the walk back to our room, his hand occasionally tightening and loosening around mine as he leads the way.
Almost as soon as he shuts the door to his room, my back is pressed to it, and his lips are on mine again.
I lean into his mouth, my body already craving more. One hand slips into my hair, tugging it loose before gripping tight and tugging so that I’m angled up to him, allowing him to deepen the kiss.
“Xaden,” I whisper when he finally pulls away.
“Tell me to stop, Wren.” His forehead rests against mine, his voice straining as if it's affected by his will to stop. “It’s been weeks, but I don’t want to hurt you. Physically or emotionally.”
My throat tightens with words I don't say.
Don't stop. Please don't stop.
The thought alone sends a shiver through me.
Are there still secrets he’s hiding from me? Almost certainly. But—
He’s been truthful so far. Doesn’t that count for something?
His lips trail along my jawline, soft and searching, resisting enough to wait for my permission.
My fingers find his hair — it’s longer now, similar to the length when we were teens — and I gently tug until he meets my eyes.
“Wren?” He searches my face, trying to discern the answer before I pull him to me.
I know what I want. What I’ve wanted this entire time.
“If you stop,” I murmur against his lips, “I’m sleeping in my old room.”
A low chuckle vibrates in his chest. “You wouldn’t dare.”
His hands slip beneath my shirt, warm against my skin, tracing the curve of my ribs.
I arch into his touch as his lips find the spot behind my ear — the perfect spot that turns me into putty under his touch.
“Try me,” I gasp, the word fading into a moan as his teeth graze the sensitive skin.
My shirt disappears almost instantly before his mouth is on me again, working his way down my neck. His grip tightens on my thighs as he lifts me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist.
Two steps, three, and then there’s a soft thud from the bed as we fall, his weight pinning me. His shirt follows mine without a second thought.
My palms explore his shoulders and down his back, tracing each of the scars he took for the marked ones, but I linger on one. The one meant for me.
“I love you,” he murmurs against my lips as I trace the small line.
Before I can respond, he’s biting down where my neck meets my shoulder, pulling a cry from my throat. I let my hands trail lower, fumbling with his waistband until his pants join the growing pile of clothes on the floor just as he tugs mine down and tosses them to the floor too.
I glide my fingertips along his hips, seeking, but a cold band of shadows wraps around my wrists, pulling them above my head.
“As much as I want your hands on me, love,” his voice is thick with want, “this will be over too damn quickly if I let you.”
He trails kisses down my body, pausing to take my left breast into his mouth. My back arches off the bed, practically begging for more contact.
“Xaden,” I breathe, my voice barely coherent.
He shifts, giving the same attention to my right breast before moving lower, lower, lower until his shoulders part my thighs.
“Beautiful,” he whispers against my skin. “Don’t you dare hide those sounds.”
If I weren't looking down at him, I would've felt his smirk before his tongue touches my clit, light and teasing. My hips lift from the bed, but his hands press me down, holding me in place as he licks a broader stripe against my core.
I need my hands free, need to grip his hair. It’s as if he heard my thoughts; the shadows dissolve. My fingers thread through his hair as I moan his name.
“Gods, Xaden,” I gasp, yanking gently when he sucks, letting his teeth graze just enough to send a jolt through me.
He works me until screams tear from my throat. The tension builds, coiling tighter and tighter until my vision whites out and I shatter around him.
“You,” he says, pressing a kiss to my inner thigh, “are,” another kiss to the other side, “fucking perfect.”
He moves over me again, his body covering mine as he positions himself between my legs.
“Ready for me, love?”
I nod, my body still trembling as he pushes inside, slowly filling me until he's fully seated. He pauses, letting me adjust to the stretch, the burn. My eyes are squeezed shut as I try to relax.
“Look at me,” he softly commands, a hand slowly running along my cheek.
My eyes flutter open as he begins to move, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, hard and deep. Again. Again. Again.
His name becomes a prayer on my lips, our bodies finding that perfect, familiar dance.
“Gods, I've missed this. Missed you,” he breathes, rolling his hips in a way that makes me see stars.
The world narrows to this: the slide of his body against mine, each ragged breath from either of us.
“Xaden,” I gasp, my fingers digging into his back as I teeter on the edge again.
He shifts, angling deeper, hitting that spot that makes me lose all control. My eyes roll back as pleasure washes over me, intense and overwhelming.
“That's it, love,” he groans, his movements becoming more erratic as he follows me into ecstasy.
My body writhes around him as waves of pleasure crash over me. He buries himself deep with a final thrust, spilling into me with a cry of my name.
For a few long moments, we just breathe, neither of us moving.
Xaden’s the first to move, though, gently slipping out of me to move to the bathroom, returning with a damp cloth.
He gently wipes away any evidence of our activities before tossing it towards the hamper in the corner, landing perfectly inside. He tugs me into his arms, letting my head rest on his chest as he leans against the pillows.
A comfortable silence settles between us.
“Little Bird?” His voice is soft against my hair.
“Hmm?”
His hair is disheveled when I look up at him, and I can't help but reach up to smooth a stray strand.
“I meant what I said,” he says, his expression serious. “I love you.”
I lean in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. “I love you, too.
It’s quiet between us again. I sit up suddenly, turning around until I’m facing him, the blankets pooling around my waist.
“What’s the real reason you won’t let Vi wield for Tecarus?” I ask, looking at him directly.
His expression falters. The softness in his eyes vanishes. The wall that had been missing for the last few minutes rebuilds itself, brick by agonizing brick. He sits up too, pulling the blankets up to cover both of us.
“I already told you why.”
“We don’t deal in people is a bullshit answer, and you know it,” I challenge, my voice soft but firm. “I’m not looking for a fight, Xaden. But you promised to be truthful with me.”
A muscle twitches in his jaw, and then he sighs. “Tecarus wants me to reconsider the arrangement between Cat and me.”
Oh. That’s… honestly, that’s not what I was expecting him to tell me.
“And if Tecarus manages to get Violet in his collection,” I start, slowly working through what he really means. “It’ll have you in Cordyn so often that Tecarus will only see the benefit of your engagement again.”
Xaden nods, running a hand through his hair. “I know that sending Violet away to Cordyn would ease a lot of the animosity between us, but it’ll just put us back to where we were in September.”
I nod as he lies back down, already drifting to sleep after the day we’ve had.
Tecarus was never a reasonable man, but he does like making deals.
I already know my plan before I lie down, resting my head back on Xaden’s chest as he adjusts the blankets around us.
I just need Xaden to be away on patrol again, as much as I hate to wish that on us.
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I have a free Empyrean Starter Pack (link to google drive folder) that is updated and improved! (Or getting there)
*CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR ONYX STORM*
Included:
the new and improved Empyrean Character Chart
Every Empyrean character is charted with important details notated along with it, organized by quadrant and extras, including dragons! And yes, I spent my weekend updating this to this beautiful, beautiful version. This new version should be extra compatible on mobile devices, tablets, full screen and half screen on computers (the zoom on the sheet may need some minor adjustments in half screen)
The Continent Flight Times
We're all constantly trying to figure out how long they're in the air for. All major flight paths that I could find and deduce are tracked!
The Empyrean Timeline
Presently a rough timeline, currently undergoing edits to be more specific and include chapter markers
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Series Warnings (updated regularly) : spoilers for all books, smut 18+ MDNI, canon divergence, Liam Mairi lives, presumed dead character, found injured, hurt/comfort, slow burn, venin hunting, forced proximity, found family, healing from trauma, learning to live, home is a person, emotional intimacy, protective Liam Mairi, Additional Warnings Apply
previous part
L I A M
“Mae!” I call after her, quickening my pace as she moves ahead of me like the ground itself is pulling her forward. “Why are you in such a rush? We just saved an entire city!”
The words leave with half of a laugh, stil riding the lingering rush of adrenalin and relief that hasn’t quite settled in my chest yet.
Because we did save them.
We arrived in a Northern Krovla town expecting the worst, only to find a single Venin straggler clinging to the last dregs of its life in the wreckage that his kind had already caused. I handle it without a thought, Mae follows behind swiftly, already triaging wounds and deciding who needs her immediate care. Anyone with minor aches and bruises, I secretly use my ice wielding to form an ice pack for them.
This is the fifteenth town in two months. Fifteen places that would have been worse — would have been lost entirely — if we hadn’t been there.
Somewhere along the way, I stopped feeling like I was following her. It started to feel like something I chose.
Because this — this quiet, undeniable knowledge that what we’re doing matters, even if it’s small, even if it’s unseen by everyone behind the wards — is more than anything Basgiath ever gave me. There are no ranks out here. No instructors watching for failure. No one measures your worth by how long you last. Just people who get to keep breathing because you showed up.
And Mae —
Mae was built for this in a way I’m still trying to understand.
In the two months since I decided not to return to Basgiath, she’s changed. Not dramatically, not all at once, but in the slow, careful way of someone who isn’t used to letting anyone in. Conversations that used to end in one-word answers now stretch longer, sometimes without her realizing it. Pieces of her past slip through in fragments — her brothers, the way she talks about the youngest with something softer beneath the words, the way she avoids anything that lingers too long on loss.
And in return, I gave her everything. The chaos of my childhood being the youngest beside my sister in a group that has become the closest thing I have to a family.
Then at night — whether we were stretched out beneath open sky or trapped in some inn that insisted on feeding us before letting us leave — we talk.
About Sloane. About her youngest brother. About everything we’d lost without saying it directly. Somewhere in all of that, something shifted.
She isn’t the girl who looked at me like I was a complication she didn’t want to deal with.
Now there are moments — quiet and easy ones — where she smiles at something I say and doesn’t immediately pull away like she regrets it. Moments where she lingers. Moments where I catch myself thinking —
Well, honestly, I’m not sure what I’m thinking, but I know that whatever it is I’m feeling, it’s going to change everything about this.
“Mae—” I try again, catching up to her as she reaches Dìls and begins securing her pack with quick, practiced movements.
She doesn’t even glance at me. “Zolya.” The word cuts clean through everything else.
I’m used to only getting city names from her, somehow getting information from that Drift she worked with. “What happened?”
“There was an attack,” she says, already mounting Dìls in one fluid motion that feels less like a decision and more like instinct. “Recent.”
My pulse spikes, adrenaline replacing whatever ease had settled there moments ago. “How recent?”
She finally looks down at me then, just long enough for something sharp and unyielding to flash through her expression. “Recent enough that we’re already late.”
Dìls shifts beneath her, wings spreading as if he’s been waiting for this.
I don’t hesitate. I’m on Deigh before the thought even finishes forming. “Then let’s move.”
One moment we’re cutting through open sky, the wind sharp and familiar against my face, and the next it feels as though something heavier has settled over everything—thick and unmoving, like the world itself is holding its breath.
Zolya doesn’t look like a city when it comes into view beneath us.
The streets are split in jagged lines, buildings collapsed inward as if something forced its way through them rather than burning them down, and the smoke that lingers doesn’t rise in clean plumes. It clings low to the ground, crawling through the ruins in a way that feels unnatural, wrong in a way I can’t quite name but immediately understand.
Dìls folds his wings and drops first, and Deigh follows without question.
The ground rushes up too fast, the destruction becoming clearer with every second until my boots hit stone and the silence hits just as hard.
Because it isn’t empty.
“Mae,” I call in warning as she saddles up beside me.
“Where is everyone?” she asks, a sword already in her hand.
I pull my own from the scabbard on my back, slipping the blade free as I turn to check behind us, scanning the broken skyline, the empty streets, the absence of anything that should be here. “Something isn’t right.”
“Cliffsbane is about a mile north from here,” Mae mutters, already moving forward. “This place should be crawling with drifts of cadets—”
She cuts herself off, breath catching as she steps further into the street.
I turn to follow her—and freeze.
A venin steps out from behind a collapsed wall, its form wrong in a way that still makes my skin crawl no matter how many times I’ve seen them. Then another follows, and another after that, until there are four of them standing in the ruins, not rushing us, not hesitating, simply advancing with the kind of certainty that makes it clear they already know how this ends.
“Mae—” I start, but she’s already moving.
“I see them,” she says, her voice steady in a way that feels almost too controlled. “Take the left.”
I follow her orders, because if there’s anything I’ve learned since July, it’s that Mae knows exactly what she’s doing.
“Pretty healer,” one of the cloaked figures snickers. “Been a long time since I caught you in our territory.”
“I think this is a little outside of The Barrens, no?” she shoots back, stepping forward like she’s the one in control of this situation.
I glance at her, but her focus is locked, sharp and unyielding, fixed entirely on the Venin in front of us. “Hey—maybe don’t taunt the creatures that can drain the very land we stand on?”
Mae gives me the barest flick of a glance before she’s moving.
Before I can even process it, she’s pulling one of the alloy-hilted daggers from her thigh sheath and driving it straight into the chest of the one she taunted, pivoting seamlessly into a slash with her sword that forces the second back.
Holy shit.
She’s fast — faster than I’ve ever seen her — moving like she’s not thinking, just reacting, just ending it as quickly as possible. Another dagger appears in her hand, buried cleanly into a second venin before it can fully recover.
“Any day now, Mairi!” she shouts as three more spill from the alley to her right.
I surge forward, intercepting the closest one and driving my own alloy dagger into its chest. “Three more behind you!” I call, twisting free as it drops.
But they’re not slowing.
And Mae—
Mae doesn’t fall back.
She pushes forward instead, cutting through another with a precision that would be impressive if it wasn’t so reckless, if it wasn’t so clearly edging past control into something sharper, something more desperate.
“Mae, pull back!” I call, pivoting to take another that popped up behind me, but the words don’t seem to reach her through the chaos.
Of course they don’t, because she’s not thinking about herself.
She takes another down, pure will flaring through her movements, faster now, harder, but not cleaner. Not controlled. Three close in on her at once, one forcing her guard high, another sweeping low, splitting her focus just enough—
And the third—
The third doesn’t hesitate. It does exactly what they were doing in Resson. Learning how we fight, and this strikes exactly where Mae is going to be.
“Mae—!” But it's too late.
The hit lands with a force that sends her body back into the stone behind her, the sound of it echoing through the street in a way that makes something in my chest lock tight.
For half a second, everything stops, then it all comes crashing back at once.
I don’t think. I don’t plan. I just move.
The Venin in front of me lunges and I meet it head-on, ending it in one clean strike before turning, already moving toward her, already tracking the others closing in.
There’s too many, too close and one is already too close to Mae.
My hand lifts and I make a split second choice.
Cold floods through me, sharp and immediate, something I’ve kept buried for months, snapping into place with a precision that feels almost terrifying in its familiarity. I don’t hesitate, don’t second-guess, because there isn’t time for it, because she’s on the ground and that is the only thing that matters.
Ice spreads from my palm in a controlled surge, catching the nearest venin mid-motion, freezing it solid before it can reach her. The second follows just as quickly, the ice sharper now, more precise, shattering through it before it can recover.
Silence crashes in behind it.
I don’t look at them, and I definitely don’t think about what I might’ve just just done or what it means.
I’m at her side in seconds, dropping to my knees, hands already pressing against her side where blood spreads too fast, too dark.
“Maelira—hey— princess, look at me.”
Her eyes flutter open, unfocused before settling on me. “Liam…” she breathes.
“I’m here,” I say immediately, leaning closer. “I’ve got you. Stay with me.”
It’s like my survival instincts are out the window because the cold creeps in again and spreads a frost over her injury
Mae inhales sharply, her gaze dropping immediately to my hand before snapping back to my face.
“That’s not farsight,” she says, quieter now, but certain.
“No,” I admit, my voice low. “It’s not.”
Her eyes flick down again, tracking the frost, understanding settling in even through the pain. “You have two.” There’s no fear in it, just curiosity and understanding in a way. Her grip tightens slightly against my wrist.
“Let’s focus on you okay?” I say, brushing off the thought.
She nods as her focus slipst, her weight shifting just slightly.
“Mae,” I say quickly. “Stay with me.”
“I am,” she whispers.
I ease my hand away, the frost holding just long enough as I move, sliding an arm beneath her shoulders and another under her legs as I lift her carefully.
“Hey,” I murmur, adjusting her against me. “You’re not done yet, alright? You don’t get to check out after all that.”
Her head tilts against my shoulder, breath brushing warm against my neck. “I’d be…” she breathes, voice thin, “really annoyed if I did.”
A broken laugh escapes me, catching somewhere between relief and fear. “Yeah,” I say quietly, tightening my hold. “Good. Stay annoyed.”
Deigh crouches low as I reach him, already understanding, and I walk up his outstretched leg with her still held close, securing her against me just as cracking can be heard from behind me.
Fuck, it’s time to go.
Dìls is already airborne.
I don’t look back at Zolya as Deigh launches into the sky, the ruined city falling away beneath us.
I tighten my hold on her, lowering my head slightly toward hers as the wind tears past us.
“Stay with me, princess,” I murmur, unsure where the instinct to call her that came from, but it feels right.
And nothing else matters right now.
“We have to get her to help,” I plead to Deigh.
“Dìls knows where to go. We will follow.”
I release the slightest breath of relief, readjusting my grip on her.
“I got you.” I mutter repeatedly as I feel her breaths steady out against me, nut whether I’m saying it for her or myself, I’m not sure.
M A E L I R A
“Glad to see you awake, Rowan.” A voice greets me as my eyes blink open.
“Syrena?”
There's a smile on the face of the flier as she sits on the bed beside me. My eyes focus as I take in the room around me.
“What—?” I jolt upright, my gaze catching on the decadence around me. Carved stone. Heavy drapes. Polished wood. “Cordyn?”
My body chooses that exact moment to remind me why I shouldn’t be moving. The adrenaline drains out of me all at once, leaving nothing but pain flooding through every fiber of my being, stemming from my side.
“Careful,” Syrena laughs lightly. “You’ll pull the stitches Trager worked so hard on.”
I drop back onto the bed with a sharp exhale, one hand instinctively pressing to my side before I turn my head toward her with a sigh. “How did I get here?”
I’ve known Syrena for as long as I’ve been out here—considering it was her cousin I ran into three years ago. She’s more exhausted than I remember her being, though she hides it well beneath that same composed exterior.
“That rider you adopted,” she says, her smirk returning like it never left, like she hasn’t just been quietly assessing every breath I take. “The blonde one?”
My stomach drops before she even finishes the sentence.
“He’s sweet,” she adds, something almost amused threading through her tone. “Been worried about you since he carried you here from Zolya.”
“He…” My voice falters slightly before I catch it, my brows pulling together as I push myself up just enough to look at her fully. “Carried me?”
Syrena’s expression shifts—not softer, not kinder, but more interested, like she’s been waiting for that exact reaction. “All the way across Krovla,” she says, almost casually, though there’s nothing casual about the way her eyes stay locked on mine. “Didn’t stop. Wouldn’t even hand you off when we tried to help after he landed.”
Something tightens in my chest, sharp and unfamiliar, but I ignore it. “That’s—” I start, then stop, because I don’t actually have a word for what that is.
Reckless. Stupid. Dangerous. All of the above.
“…unnecessary.”
Syrena huffs out a quiet laugh at that, clearly unconvinced. “If you say so.”
My fingers curl slightly into the sheets beneath me as I try to pull the memory back into focus. Zolya, the smoke, the venin, the hit, then — cold. Not the kind that seeps in slowly. Not the kind that belongs to wind or altitude or long nights without a fire.
My gaze drops to my bandaged side. It wasn’t just cold.
“Where is Liam?”
“He’s been confined to his quarters,” Syrena says, far too casually for what that actually means. “My uncle was not entirely happy with another dragon rider showing up at his door.” She laughs softly, but there’s something sharper beneath it.
Probably down the hall from here. Tecarus has a habit of keeping dragon riders where he can watch them.
“Gods,” I groan, dragging a hand over my face. “He really shouldn’t be here.”
“No,” Syrena agrees again, far too easily. “But he is. And now the question becomes—” She leans back slightly, studying me in that same calculated way. “—what you plan to do about it.”
I don’t answer right away. Because the truth is— I don’t know, because two months ago, Liam Mairi was just a rider I dragged out of a ruined city.
And now he’s here. In Cordyn, surrounded by enemies he was raised to hate, with a secret that could get him killed in Navarre and a presence that’s already drawn attention where attention is the last thing either of us should want, and despite all of that— he didn’t let me die.
My fingers tighten slightly against the sheets before I push the thought away, swinging my legs carefully over the side of the bed.
Syrena watches the movement, her brow lifting slightly. “And where, exactly, do you think you’re going?”
“To find him,” I say simply, even as the room tilts faintly again.
Her smile returns—sharp, knowing, entirely too satisfied. “Of course you are.”
“What does that supposed to mean?” I turn to the flier, cocking a brow.
“I’m just syaing.” She lifts her hands in mock surrender, already moving toward the door.
I groan as I stand, tugging my boots on. “Spit it out, Cordella.”
She laughs, glancing back at me. “He willingly stayed in enemy territory when he could’ve gone back to Riorson and his merry band of traitors,” she says. “He’s been traveling all over Poromiel with a girl who has more secrets than my uncle—which says a lot, by the way.”
I roll my eyes, reaching for the door handle.
“And he carried you straight to our front door,” she continues, her tone sharpening just slightly, “terrified he was going to lose you. He isn’t just anyone, Maelira.”
“He’s an acquaintance,” I inform her flatly, fingers tightening around the handle.
Syrena’s smirk deepens. “If it wasn’t more than that,” she says, voice light but pointed, “you wouldn’t be trying so hard to deny it.”
It’s at least five minutes of standing outside his door before I actually walk through it.
Syrena’s words flooded my mind.
“If it wasn’t more than that, you wouldn’t be trying so hard to deny it.”
She doesn’t know what she’s saying.
Liam and I are friends. Friends with too many secrets to feel anything beyond that. Secrets that we need to talk about before this is anything more than what it may or may not be.
I take a deep breath before knocking on the door and pushing my way inside the room.
“If you’re here to question me again, you’ll get the same—” Liam cuts himself off as he turns. “Mae… you’re okay.”
“Thanks to you.” I say softly, closing the door behind me and flicking the lock into place. “We need to talk.”
Liam goes still. There’s fear in his eyes—real, unguarded fear—and for a split second, all I can think about is how badly I want to kiss it away.
Woah, Maelira. Pull back. What the fuck?
“I’m sure he’d enjoy that kiss too,” Dìls hums across our bond and I slam my shields up.
“Busybody dragon,” I mutter, rolling my eyes internally. “You wielded ice,” I say to Liam, cutting straight through everything else.
Liam scoffs, laughing nervously as he runs a hand through his hair. “Good one, Mae. My signet is farsight, remember? Are you sure you didn’t hit your head when that Venin threw you?”
“I know what I saw, Mairi.” I hold my ground, crossing my arms as I step closer. “I should have bled out before we ever made it here. I didn’t, because you sealed the wound with ice.”
He hesitates. It’s subtle, but I see it—the flicker of calculation, the instinct to deny, to deflect, to survive. He’d do well in RSC interrogations.
I close the distance between us and reach for his right hand, turning his palm upward in mine. “Show me.”
“Mae—”
“For Amari’s sake, I’m not going to kill or report you, Liam,” I say, my voice sharper now, my dark eyes locking onto his. “You saved my life. I want to see how.”
Liam exhales slowly, something in him giving way as he flips his hand over, letting it rest in mine, and a soft chill runs up my arm.
My gaze drops, watching as pale blue frost blooms across my skin, delicate and intricate, curling into faint, shifting patterns. “Woah…”
“My farsight developed almost two weeks after Threshing,” Liam says quietly, letting the frost linger before it begins to fade. “Then in February, I woke up to half my room frozen.” He huffs out a small laugh. “I thought my friend Ridoc—he’s an ice wielder—was messing with me. Wouldn’t have been the first time. But then I frosted my armoire a few days later…” He shakes his head slightly. “I knew something wasn’t right.”
“Did you ever tell anyone?” I ask, still watching the last of the frost melt away.
He doesn’t pull his hand from mine. “My wingleader.”
My eyes snap up in alarm.
“Xaden,” he adds quickly, softer now. “We grew up together. He was my foster brother after the executions.” His left arm—the one marked with that relic—lifts, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “He’s the only one I told. He helped me control it… helped me hide it.” His hand lingers at my neck. “I practiced in secret. I’ve only used it during Resson…” He pauses. “…and when I saw you hurt.”
“You were worried about me,” I murmured, leaning into his touch before I could stop myself.
“You saved my life,” he says just as quietly. “We’re even.”
I shake my head slightly, my breath catching as I search his eyes. “You never needed to get even with me.” I say, stepping closer.
He meets me halfway, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it. “I would’ve done it even if you hadn’t.”
“Why?”
His smile shifts—brighter, warmer, like sunlight breaking through the darkest of days. “Because you’re nothing like I thought you were,” he says, his voice dropping, “and everything I hoped you would be,” and then he kisses me.
It’s soft and careful, like he’s giving me the chance to pull away but I don’t.
It takes a second for my brain to catch up before I’m kissing him back, my hand slipping from his to the back of his neck, pulling him closer.
His hand finds my hip, grounding me as the kiss deepens, as everything we haven’t said folds into it—every late night conversation, every shared glance, every moment we should have ignored but didn’t.
No one has ever understood me the way Liam does.
“Liam…” I murmur, pulling back just slightly.
I finally notice the angle he’s bent at just to reach me, the height difference suddenly very real. I’m barely over five foot. He’s — definitely not.
“We, uh—” I stutter, stepping back just enough to meet his eyes again.
Focus, Maelira.
“There’s something I need to tell you before we—”
A loud bang interrupts me.
“I know you did not just wake up from a near-death experience and not come find me to say hi!”
I groan.
“Is that… Catriona Cordella?” Liam asks, his attention snapping toward the door.
“I’ll get rid of her,” I say quickly. “Just promise me we’ll talk, okay? And no matter what she says or does — don’t listen to her.”
Liam lets out a soft laugh. “We’ll talk, Mae. Whatever it is.” His thumb brushes my cheek. “Take your time.”
I nod, lingering for half a second longer than I should before stepping out of his arms.
“Maelira!”
I move faster, unlocking the door and pulling it open— only to be immediately tackled into a hug by not one, not two, but three fliers.
“Man, am I happy to see you,” Maren says from my left, her arm wrapped tightly around me and Cat. “Seeing you unconscious like that? That was scary, Mae.”
“I’m fine, Mare,” I promise her as she backs up, allowing Cat to release me.
You’re the only dragon rider I actually like.” She almost scoffs, trying to play it off. “You can’t go dying on me.”
I smile at her words. “Hey, Cat.” It’s the third flier that keeps my attention. “I heard your brother was the one who patched me up,” I say, lightly bumping the girl.
Tessa shrugs at the mention of her twin brother. “He’s gotten pretty good at field work. He patched most of us up after Cliffsbane.”
“But you’re all okay?”
“We lost a few,” Maren says quietly. “But everyone who made it here is.”
I nod, scanning them quickly, checking for anything I might’ve missed. I wish I had the time to sit with them, but—
“Cat.” Liam’s voice sounds from behind me.
“Liam,” Cat greets coldly.
I blink, looking between them. “You two know each other?”
“My foster brother, the one I mentioned?” Liam says. “They used to be betrothed.”
I turn back to Cat.
She scoffs. “Some betrothal. He spent two months of weekends here, barely spoke to me, and then called it off for some girl.”
“Xaden and Wren had been together since they were teenagers, Cat,” Liam snaps. “Everyone knew he wasn’t going to take the arrangement seriously.”
“He didn’t even give us a chance!” she shoots back. “And I heard he cheated on her, so how’s that working out?”
Liam’s jaw tightens. “For Malek’s sake, Cat—” His hands rake through his hair as he steps behind me. “That has nothing to do with you, and even then you have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Cat laughs. “Says the man hiding from his so-called family across the border. Do you even know what’s happening between them right now?”
“Do you?” Liam snaps back.
She steps closer, that same smug confidence settling into place. “I saw them recently. They didn’t exactly look happy.”
Liam stills. “You saw them? Together?”
“Last drop,” she says.
He studies her, then shrugs slightly. “Well that's already an improvement considering the last time I saw them, we were thanking Zihnal if they were in the same room together..”
Cat turns away from Liam with a scoff. “My uncle has requested you both at dinner. Formal attire.” She glances over her shoulder. “Xaden has a closet across the hall. Liam should fit into something.”
“Thanks, Cat,” I say as they start to leave.
Tessa slips back in before I can close the door.
“For what it’s worth,” she says quietly, eyes on Liam, “I was on that drop. They didn’t seem like they were on the rocks.”
“What was Wren doing there?” Liam asks.
Tessa shrugs. “Riorson said something about a gryphon attack on Samara. I think he’s stationed there. It sounded like he got hurt pretty badly.”
“Thanks, Tess.” I say as she nods and slips out. I lock the door again, turning back to Liam, and he’s running his hand through his hair again. “You do that a lot,” I say.
“What?”
“Your hair. You’re always messing with it.” I guide him into a chair, smoothing it down.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, tilting his head up to look at me. “Hi.”
“Hey.”
Silence settles for a moment before— “Can I kiss you again?”
The question catches me off guard. “I—” I shake my head slightly. “I need to tell you something first.” I step away, sitting on the edge of the bed, my back to him. “You need to know this before anything else… because it’s going to change how you see me. You might even regret saving me.”
“Princess, ” he says gently, “nothing is going to change how I see you. It’s not like your dad ordered the executions of my, and all my friends’, parents.”
I think I might be sick.
He lets out a small laugh. “That would be—” He stops. “Mae?”
“What if he did?” I whisper.
He frowns. “That’s not possible. The King’s daughter died—”
“Five years, one month, and twenty-eight days ago,” I recite. “To the day when I crossed the parapet.
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Word Count: 23 (tried a new format... did not include word count for the letters... thoughts?)
Series Warnings: canon typical violence, healer x rider, stubborn woman x patient man, cute family moments, long distance relationship, relationship strain, major character death, grief, spousal death, parental death (impact on Wrenley), Additional Warnings Apply
Recovered Correspondences between Second Lieutenant Eden Anslem (Riders) and Second Lieutenant Harlow Tavis (Healers), dating from 20 July 606 to 18 March 607.
Its that time of year that my life gets hella hectic for no reason (this time with reasons!!)
A) I FINALLY GOT A NEW JOB after way too long 😮💨 just waiting for my background check so I can start
B) My lease is up mid July so I am packing now to save me the stress unlike last year when I waited till July 1st, spent july 2-6 in my home state at my mom’s AND THEN started packing when I got back to move on the 19th
C) my bf and I are buying our first house!🥳🥳
So yea, I’m writing when I can, it just might be awhile until I post again, hoping to backlog during this crazy next 2 months in time to post somewhat on the regular while I write more🧡
And yes, if you have sent a request, I HAVE IT! The brain is just refusing to move on from ATWWSA right now!
yall ever start writing a fic in a certain mood and the next day youre not in that certain mood anymore so now you gotta wait until youre in that mood again so you can continue writing the fic ??
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The most entertaining thing for me right now if that my friend who is finally on Iron Flame is into the section I’m writing and she has no idea that the fate of this section rests heavily in her reaction🤣🤣
Basically in about an hour:
If she calls screaming, the Act 2 ending will be on the same level as the books
If she calls crying, it’s gonna be worse.
If it’s both, well… I might have to go into hiding🤣
The most entertaining thing for me right now if that my friend who is finally on Iron Flame is into the section I’m writing and she has no idea that the fate of this section rests heavily in her reaction🤣🤣
Basically in about an hour:
If she calls screaming, the Act 2 ending will be on the same level as the books
If she calls crying, it’s gonna be worse.
If it’s both, well… I might have to go into hiding🤣
