All eyes were on me.
"Raiden is my bonded mate. Maybe somehow I can bring him back from the darkness. At least let me try!"
The tent didn't explode into chaos all at once.
At first, it was only murmurs—quiet threads of sound winding through the fabric walls. Slipping beneath one another like currents that refused to settle. Then the voices grew sharper. Louder. Accusations rose, layered with fear and anger, until the air itself seemed to vibrate.
I stood ready to take it all—every ounce of anger, every shard of fear—my pulse pounding so hard it echoed in my throat.
I hadn't realized how my speaking completely broke the illusion of unity.
The Air Nation did not sit as one body. They never had. The tent curved outward in layers of fabric, each threaded with different spiraling sigils of wind and sky. Each fabric belonged to a tribe. Each tribe to a leader. No throne stood above the others. This was a council of leaders.
"We must stay united!"
United…
Standing here now, listening to them tear at one another with words sharpened by panic and fear, I understood the truth.
This wasn't unity.
This was a fragmentation held together by years of tradition.
"This is madness," a woman snapped from the far right side of the tent, her silver-and-blue robes snapping in the shifting air. "You would have us gamble the fate of our people on a girl who admits she loves the very man that rules the dead."
A ripple of agreement followed her words.
I didn't answer.
Not yet.
Another voice rose—older, calmer, and far more dangerous. "She speaks of hope," an elder said, his gaze cold and assessing as it fixed on me. "But hope does not stop armies. Raiden's power grows. His control weakens. The darkness consumes him."
He tilted his head slightly. "And she claims she wants to reverse that?"
My fingers curled at my sides.
"Commendable."
"Or," he continued, "is she simply afraid to do what must be done?"
Heat coiled beneath my skin, my fire reacting to the pressure in the room. I forced it down. Forced myself to breathe.
Revik shifted beside me. Just a fraction. But I felt it—the anger in him stirring, responding to the hostility, to the number of people who would gladly see Raiden destroyed simply for existing.
Muir stood silent. Too silent.
"You speak of mercy," another leader said, rising to their feet. "But mercy did not save my tribe's people. Mercy did not stop the dead from hunting my people and enslaving their souls."
"And what of Raiden's promise?"
Muir's voice cut through the chamber. Cracked but strong.
Every head turned.
"He promised refuge," Muir said, his tone steady, even as I heard the strain beneath it. "Not conquest. Not annihilation. Refuge. He swore it before Tadewi. Before me."
"Words," someone scoffed.
"Truth," Muir replied quietly. "That still matters to some of us."
That was when the chamber truly fractured.
Voices rose over one another—some calling for Raiden's immediate execution, others demanding I be restrained, bound, removed "for the safety of the nation." A few argued that the skies should be sealed entirely, that the Air Nation should retreat inward and let the rest of the world burn.
I listened.
I made myself listen.
This—this chaos, this fear—was what makes a true leader step forward.
Tadewi finally rose.
The movement alone silenced the room.
"I will not allow this council to tear itself apart," she said calmly.
Several leaders bristled at once. "You do not command us—"
"I do not," Tadewi agreed. "But I will not let fear make our decisions for us."
She turned slowly, her gaze sweeping the chamber. "The council disperses for a one-hour cycle. No votes. No judgments. No speaking among ourselves. No blood spilled in this camp."
The protests that followed were weaker. Uneasy.
Then her eyes met mine.
"You have made your claim," she said. "Now you must prove it."
The camp was quieter, but the weight in my chest didn't ease.
Cold air brushed my skin as I paced along a narrow ledge carved into the mountain's interior, looking up through the opening the cave provided—open sky stretching endlessly beyond its edge. Clouds drifted below like scattered thoughts.
"They hate me," I said finally.
"They fear you," Revik replied from down on the ground. "Different thing."
I let out a short, bitter laugh. "That's supposed to make me feel better?"
Muir leaned against the stone wall for some needed support, staring out into the clouds. "They fear what you represent," he said. "Change."
"And loss of control," Revik added.
I stopped pacing. "Tadewi bought us time."
"Time is currency," Revik said. "Use it well."
Footsteps approached.
Tadewi emerged, stoic as ever, her expression unreadable.
"You need to leave," she said.
My spine stiffened. "You're exiling me?"
"No," she replied. "I'm sending you where your words will matter more than your presence here."
She gestured toward the horizon. "The Earth Kingdom."
My heart skipped. "Why?"
"The Earth Relic is stirring," Tadewi said. "Not awakened—but close enough that the winds feel it. They also feel a divide among the Earth Kingdom."
"Divided on what?" Revik asked.
"On whether to fortify against Raiden," Tadewi said, "or ally with him."
Cold settled in my chest.
"If Raiden gains the Earth Kingdom, let alone the Relic," Muir said slowly, "the war is over."
"Yes," Tadewi replied. "And if the Earth Kingdom chooses him willingly, the world fractures beyond repair."
I swallowed. "So you want me to steal it."
"No," Tadewi said sharply. "I want you to take back what has always been rightfully yours."
She looked at me then—not as a council leader, not as a political figure—but as someone weighing the fate of her people.
"You claim you can stop Raiden. Prove it. Stand between him and the relic. Between him and another choice that leads only to destruction."
"And if I fail?" I asked quietly.
Her expression softened. Just slightly. "Then at least the world will know you tried to stop the war without feeding it."
"Muir and Revik will accompany you," Tadewi said.
"No," Muir answered.
"You and I are going to the Water Kingdom," he continued. "With your people. With the survivors. I will fulfill Raiden's promise."
Tadewi's jaw tightened. "And if that promise means nothing to your father?"
"Then we prepare," Muir said.
"I've already prepared your things," Revik said to Muir.
I turned to Revik. "You knew."
He smiled faintly. "I hoped."
I exhaled. "Then it's up to us."
The council reconvened at dusk.
This time, I stood alone.
I didn't wait for accusations.
"You fear that I am blinded by love," I said. "You're right."
A ripple passed through the chamber.
"I love him," I continued. "And that is exactly why I am the one who can stop him."
Silence followed.
"If Raiden can be saved," I said, my voice steady, "I will save him."
I let the pause stretch.
"And if he cannot…"
I met their eyes, one by one.
"I will be the one to end him."
No shouting. No threat.
Just truth.
"You may send armies if you wish," I finished. "They will burn."
Another pause.
"Or," I said quietly, "you can send me."
The council did not erupt.
It held its breath.
And that is when I knew I had been heard.