The safehouse was quiet, but neither of them slept.
Zara paced, dagger flicking between her fingers, restless. Nyasha sat at the window, staring out at the sprawl of Umbra's Gate. The Covenant's words still clung to her like smoke: Your mother defied us. She paid the price.
Her fist tightened. They had killed her. Not sickness, not accident. The Covenant.
Zara broke the silence. "We can't fight them like this. Just the two of us? We'll be ash before we even get close."
Nyasha turned from the window. "Then we don't fight alone."
Zara raised a brow. "And where exactly do you expect to find an army?"
Nyasha stood, the Emberheart pulsing against her chest. "Not an army. But there are people in this city who hate my father as much as I do. People who've been burned by his empire. The smugglers. The relic-hunters. Even the families the Covenant has destroyed. If I can unite them…"
Zara gave a low whistle. "You're talking about challenging not just your father, but the Covenant's grip on this whole city. That's suicide."
Nyasha met her gaze, steady. "It's survival. If I bow, I die their slave. If I fight, I die my mother's daughter. I know which one I'd choose."
For a long moment, Zara studied her. Then she grinned, sharp and dangerous. "Damn. You always did drag me into the worst ideas. Alright, Ashen Heir. Who's first?"
Nyasha's lips curved. "An old ally. One who owes my family a debt."
Scene Shift: The Iron WardThe Iron Ward was the city's relic-prison, a crumbling fortress where dangerous artifacts and their wielders were locked away. It stank of rust and despair, guarded by mercenaries too scared to touch what they held.
Inside, behind a warded cell door, sat a man with eyes like storm clouds and a chain around his throat humming with runes. Kofi Daramola—once a relic-mercenary, a blade-for-hire who had fought alongside Nyasha's mother.
Zara muttered, "You really think he'll side with you? Last I heard, he swore never to touch magic again."
Nyasha stepped forward, firelight flickering in her hand. "Then it's time he broke that oath. Because whether he likes it or not, Umbra's Gate is already burning."
The wards glowed faintly, reacting to the Emberheart's pulse.
And in the silence of the Iron Ward, Kofi lifted his head, eyes locking with Nyasha's. Recognition. Resentment. And, buried deep, the spark of something else.
Hope.