Chapter 15 – Siege Horizon

The war table was a blur of movement—maps unrolled, troop tokens shifting, quills scratching feverishly.

“Three legions marching from the southern border,” Varek said, stabbing a gloved finger toward the lower pass. “They’ll reach Frostfall by dawn.”

Cyr leaned over the table, metal braces hissing with each shift of his stance.

“We hold them at the ridge,” he said. “Narrow field. One entrance.”

“You’ve got eighty men,” a scout objected.

“I had *zero* two weeks ago,” Cyr snapped. “And I still lived.”

Eileen stood nearby, silent but ever-present.

She wore a dark cloak, a silver pendant resting against her throat—one of Cyr’s gifts. Not for glamour.

For protection.

Within it: a resonant shard, carved from her own healing spell.

He watched her carefully.

“You don’t have to fight.”

She raised a brow.

“I mean it.”

She signed: *You’ll die without me.*

“I might die with you.”

*But not alone.*

He smiled faintly. “That’s unfair. You always win.”