Dusk broke cold over Ardleby Keep when they finally trudged through the gates. Ember's legs felt like someone had replaced the bones with lead, and every step sent fresh aches radiating from muscles that had burned too hot for too long. Around her, the others moved with the same hollow exhaustion, their usual banter replaced by weary silence.

Guards on the walls watched them pass. No cheers. No celebration. Just eyes that tracked their movement with the particular wariness reserved for things that had proven themselves dangerous.

The courtyard smelled of horses and unwashed bodies, woodsmoke and fear-sweat. Soldiers hunched around braziers despite the morning light, their faces gray beneath the grime. A healer rushed past carrying bandages that already showed red through the fabric.

Theron waited by the keep's entrance, his enhancement runes dark against pale skin. The lines around his mouth had deepened since they'd left for Ravenshollow. His right hand kept flexing, reaching for something that wasn't there.

"Captain Morse and his people?" Ember asked.

"Processing them now. Medical assessment first, then we'll deal with the memory situation." Theron's voice carried the flat affect of someone too tired for emotion. "Command wants your debrief. Now."

No preamble. No acknowledgment of what they'd accomplished. Just straight to business, because that's what you did when people died and the war kept grinding forward regardless.

They followed him into the keep's depths, through corridors that felt too warm after days in winter's grip. Soldiers pressed against walls to let them pass. Some nodded. Others looked away. None met their eyes for long.

The war room hadn't changed—same sand table dominating the space, same maps marked with positions that shifted daily, same atmosphere of controlled desperation. But the people gathered around the table had multiplied. Valerian Cross stood beside Viktor Grehm. Kaelin Reed leaned against the far wall, arms crossed. Lord Lysander Moreth occupied the table's head like he'd been invited, his ceremonial armor replaced with actual combat gear that still managed to gleam.

Captain Roderic Thale was there too, one scarred hand resting on the table's edge while his eyes fixed on something no one else could see.

Corwin sat slumped in a chair someone had dragged over, his face the color of old parchment. But his eyes tracked sharp when they entered, and he nodded at them once, respect and recognition offered as due.

"Report." Valerian's command cut through the room's low murmur.

Theron stepped forward, moving to the sand table. "Our reconnaissance mission successfully mapped dragon territories and documented patrol patterns across the former Duchy of Erebos." His fingers traced routes as he spoke, placing markers with steady hands. "Thirteen dragons confirmed prior to engagement. Now twelve."

He paused, letting that sink in before continuing with the tactical assessment. "The dragons themselves are the cause of magical suppression. We suspect some form of aura, though its nature is unclear. It affects our concentration to cast spells, and the mana cost of all spells is greatly increased. All evidence suggests this aura extends beyond their patrols. That must have been how they were able to suppress the magic use across such a large area."

Valerian frowned, exchanging a glance with Grehm. "How large is the area affected?"

"The effect intensifies with proximity, and the furthest point we could feel the suppression is around three leagues away from a dragon." More markers joined the sand table, building a pattern that revealed careful design. "Patrol routes overlap in coordinated coverage. No blind spots. No gaps in territorial control. Each dragon maintains independent territory, but their movements synchronize to provide continuous surveillance and suppression across all major approaches."

Valerian leaned forward, stylus poised above parchment. "The suppression—is it passive emanation or active magical effect?"

"Passive, as far as we could determine," Corwin spoke up, voice carrying from where he'd huddled in his seat. "It's intrinsic to their nature, not a spell they're actively maintaining. Which means it can't be countered or dispelled, only endured."

Theron placed more markers—servitor settlements, supply routes, defensive positions. "The servitors maintain infrastructure and basic functions. They're not shambling undead or mindless automatons. Their minds appear to have been... rewired to support the dragons, but their ability to function normally remains intact."

Murmurs broke out around the table, hushed whispers that carried disquiet and unease.

"The servitors." Thale's scarred hand moved to trace Belavar's position on the map. "You saw them up close. Are they..."

"Converted, not dead." Corwin's voice carried the weight of firsthand observation. "She's taken their will but left their consciousness intact. They know what they've lost. They remember who they were."

He paused, swallowed, and Ember saw him fight down something ugly before he continued. "I made direct contact with one servitor during our reconnaissance. Broke through the dragon's influence temporarily to assess the depth of control."

The room held its breath.

"The conversion runs deep, but it's not irreversible. However—" Corwin's expression darkened. "Most of them are grateful for it. She offers them escape from grief, from loss, from the fear of aging and death. They chose this, even if that choice came from desperation."

The words hit like thrown stones. Thale's face drained of what little color remained, his fingers curling against the table's edge hard enough to make wood creak.

Theron placed more markers—supply routes, defensive positions, areas of higher servitor concentration. "Nethysara has established what amounts to a functioning state. This isn't occupation. It's transformation. Every settlement we observed showed signs of long-term planning and sustainable infrastructure."

Viktor Grehm made notes on his ledger, stylus scratching loud in the sudden quiet. "Strategic implications?"

"Any territory we retake will be populated by people who don't want liberation." Theron's assessment came flat, clinical. "They'll resist rescue efforts. Possibly sabotage coalition operations. Certainly refuse to abandon their current status unless forced."

"We'll cross that bridge after we've dealt with the dragon." Valerian set down his stylus. "What else?"

"Mission encountered hostile action at Ravenshollow." Theron's voice shifted, taking on the particular tone reserved for bad news. "What we believed to be an active resistance outpost was actually an elaborate ambush. Dragon Cryax had converted Erebosian defenders, implanted them with false memories of ongoing resistance, then used them as bait."

He placed new markers showing the settlement's position. "We engaged. Extracted sixty-seven survivors. But the dragon revealed the deception mid-combat."

"Casualties?" Valerian's question came sharp.

"Diviner Senna Myers killed in action during initial engagement. Abjurer Daven Gallegos killed in action during dragon combat. Pyromancer Lysa Blair killed in action during dragon combat."

Each name landed like a stone dropped in still water. Somewhere in the room, someone's breath hitched.

"Dragon Cryax confirmed dead." Theron's hand flexed once against the table. "The Fragmented Flame executed the termination under extreme duress using enhanced capabilities. Sixty-seven Erebosian defenders extracted, currently undergoing medical and psychological assessment."

Silence stretched. Valerian's fingers drummed against the table once, twice, then stopped.

"Enhanced capabilities?" Lysander's question carried more curiosity than caution. "I was under the impression they were mere adventurers thrust into circumstances beyond their depth. How did they prove capable of killing a dragon when our most potent forces have yet to achieve such a feat?"

All eyes turned to the five. They met his gaze evenly, though Ember felt the weariness that pulled at them like a tide.

"We integrated." Ember stepped forward before Theron could respond. "Combined down to three bodies temporarily. Increased our power output enough to kill Cryax, then reconstituted afterward."

"Temporarily." Kaelin pushed off the wall, her mechanical arm whirring softly as she gestured. "How temporary?"

Ember shrugged. "Six hours, give or take. Long enough to do what was needed and escape before Cryax's kin could converge."

Valerian's eyes narrowed. "And the power increase?"

"Significant." Ash's analytical tone cut clean through the room's tension. "Our speed and power almost doubled in all respects. That's why three of us were able to overpower a dragon."

More murmurs. This time the hush felt more like hope than horror. Viktor scratched more notes into his ledger while Lysander regarded them with new contemplation.

"That," Valerian finally spoke, "could prove decisive. If you're implying that the upper bound of your power scales with your current level of capability—"

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"—we might be able to confront Nethysara directly." Ember finished his unspoken thought. "Eventually. Not now."

Valerian nodded, his stylus resuming its rhythmic tapping. "It's a start. The first real start we've had." He glanced at Thale. "Anything else you'd like to add?"

"My daughter." The words barely made it past his throat. "Elena. She's in Belavar. If there's any chance—"

"I can counter the conversion." Corwin straightened despite obvious exhaustion. "I've glimpsed enough of the magic's underpinning to disrupt its effect on an individual mind. Not reverse it remotely, but I can create a spell that prevents new conversions. Give me two weeks and access to the other enchanters. We can protect the coalition from her influence."

"Two weeks." Kaelin's calculation came instantly. "Food for five thousand. Fuel for warmth. Medical supplies for wounded. The logistics alone—"

"Are manageable." Victor Grehm's interruption carried the weight of someone who'd made impossible numbers work before. "Tight, but manageable. If we get those two weeks without major incidents."

"Then we wait." Lysander's pronouncement fell with aristocratic certainty. "Fortify. Prepare. Build our countermeasures before advancing."

"Or." Pyra stepped forward, drawing every eye. Her smile held razor edges. "We don't wait. We hunt."

She turned to the others. "We killed Cryax. One dragon. Dead. What's stopping us from doing the same to his buddies? Pick 'em off one by one. Get stronger each time."

Ember blinked, turning the idea over in her head. "Thinning out their forces before we take on Nethysara. Huh."

"That's insane." Lysander's dismissal came automatic, but uncertainty flickered beneath the scorn.

"It's logical." Ash moved to the sand table, her fingers tracing dragon patrol routes with borrowed memories from their reconnaissance. "We've mapped their territories. Documented their patterns. Each dragon operates semi-independently, which means we can isolate and eliminate them sequentially rather than facing coordinated resistance."

"The suppression fields work against coalition forces but not us." Kindle joined her sister-self at the table. "Speed lets us choose engagement terms. Integration gives us firepower to execute kills. We're the only assets capable of operating effectively in their domain."

Cinder's smile held no warmth. "So we do what we do best. Find things and burn them."

Ember watched the room process the proposal. Saw calculation in Valerian's expression, hunger in Lysander's eyes, desperate hope flickering across Thale's features. Kaelin's face revealed nothing, but her mechanical fingers drummed a slow rhythm against her armor.

"You're suggesting." Theron spoke carefully, feeling through implications. "What, exactly? A two-week campaign where you systematically eliminate every remaining dragon while the coalition sits idle?"

"Not idle. Preparing." Ember kept her voice level despite the fire building in her chest. "Corwin develops his countermeasures. The coalition fortifies positions and trains for the assault on Belavar. Meanwhile, we remove the primary strategic threats preventing your advance."

"And if you fail?" Valerian's question held no malice. Just the pragmatism of someone whose job it was to plan for everything. "If Nethysara realizes what you're attempting and responds directly? If two or more dragons converge? Can you defend yourselves?"

"We're fast enough to escape if needed." Cinder shrugged, casual, but Ember saw the fatigue lurking in her eyes. "Or fight them if necessary. At least we have a chance of doing damage now. More than the rest of the army combined."

Kaelin approached the table, placing her hands on Ash and Kindle's shoulders as she leaned forward. "I value your eagerness, but this plan hinges on two assumptions. That your integration method remains effective against more potent dragons, and that the other dragons won't adjust their tactics in response. If either of those proves false, then..."

Her fingers squeezed gently—supportive, but firm.

"You're our trump card," she continued, addressing all five of them. "This isn't about coddling you. It's about maximizing your chances. I won't risk my assets—won't risk you—in a gambit that could turn against us so easily."

"They killed a dragon." Lysander's protest came edged in disbelief. "A real, ancient dragon! You're telling me we don't push that advantage?"

"You're telling us," Pyra cut in, steel behind her smile, "to let that victory go to waste?" She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "There are a bunch of people just down the hall who'd probably be dead without us. Do you want more dead or alive?"

"We could do it," Cinder spoke quietly, but every head swiveled towards her. "Kill twelve more. I know we could." Her eyes met Kaelin's, unblinking, unflinching. "But if you don't think we could, maybe the dragons won't either."

Silence filled the room like fog. The air thickened, tasted sour against Ember's tongue. She watched emotions war across every face except Kaelin's, whose expression remained carefully blank.

"If you can kill them all in a day, then your plan has merit." Kaelin finally said, and Ember could see the wheels turning behind those dark eyes. "But based on your current state, and from what I've gathered from those who saw your struggle in the aftermath, you will all be vulnerable after one kill. Your integration burns your reserves and requires time to recover. Unless you have discovered a way around that necessity, then that is the primary flaw in your plan."

The words hung between them. Ember tasted truth in each syllable—and frustration that, yet again, they were limited by the curse.

"We cannot overextend ourselves, no matter how tempting the goal might seem." Valerian broke the silence, a decision crystallizing in his tone. "You've opened up possibilities we'll explore, but rushing to execution could prove worse than staying our current course." He looked up from the table, taking them in one at a time, studying, assessing. "We appreciate your dedication. Truly, we do. But this is not a time for brash action. Not yet."

"So what do we do?" Kindle asked, frustration bleeding into resignation. "Accept that we're not enough? That we need to risk everyone else because we can't do it alone?"

"You accept that you're part of a team." Theron's voice gentled slightly. "And teams don't work when one member goes rogue, no matter how powerful."

Ember swallowed. Exchanged looks with her selves—weariness, disappointment, resignation, all tangled in their gazes. She felt her shoulders slump, and her hands fell open at her sides.

"You're right." Cinder conceded, the words coming out on a long breath. "We'll follow orders. As long as we know those orders lead to victory."

"Understood." Valerian relaxed minutely, a subtle shift in tension signaling some conclusion reached. "Debrief concluded. Get food and rest while we finish contingency planning."

"Tomorrow's problem," Cinder murmured. Beside her, Pyra huffed a tired laugh that said everything without words.

They filed out without fanfare, footsteps muted against stone.

The Fragmented Flame sat in their barracks, picking at cold pork stew and hard bread.

"Don't let it weigh too heavily," Ash counseled, ever the voice of reason. "They have broader perspectives, larger responsibilities. We're only seeing pieces."

"That perspective means squat when we're out there burning." Pyra jabbed her spoon at Ash, sending droplets scattering. "Why even give us command of the mission if they're just gonna yank away autonomy?"

"We're the weapon. Not the hand." Cinder's fingers tightened on her mug, tea threatening to slosh over. "Don't resent it. It is what it is."

Kindle stared out their window at the camp below. "I just wish... I don't know, it's frustrating! Like, why did you even do all that research and scouting and stuff if everything we say is going to get ignored anyway?"

"They're not ignoring it." Ember rubbed her temples where the headache still throbbed. "Just... weighing it differently. What might seem like a slam dunk from inside isn't so clear on the outside."

"Maybe." Kindle leaned against the windowsill, eyes fixed on distant fires. "Or maybe they don't trust us to actually make good choices. Like we're still too 'young' and too 'impulsive.'" She made air quotes with her fingers on the emphasized words. "Like, when have we ever rushed into something without thinking it through?—wait, don't answer that."

Ember laughed softly, more at their situation than her Kindle's words. The others smiled, tension defusing slightly as rueful chuckles rippled around the room. For a long moment, they just sat, letting amusement drain away into shared exhaustion.

Cinder drained her mug before speaking again. "Fine. Let's pretend they're not totally blind for a second here. What would their 'strategic considerations' even be against our proposal?"

Ash tapped her chin thoughtfully, falling into lecture mode with ease. "First, there's the matter of our own limits. Fatigue, integration strain, lingering effects of the curse—we're already pushing ourselves to the breaking point. That's bound to factor in."

"Second, there's timing." Ember chimed in without hesitation, following her sister-self's reasoning. "We got lucky with Cryax. He didn't know what hit him. If word gets back to Nethysara about how we took him down..."

"...the dragons shift tactics, we're suddenly facing a very different battlefield." Cinder finished for her, nodding. "Alright, alright. I see that. So what else? Just the tactical jumble or is there more to it than that?"

Pyra scowled. "Doesn't feel like it to me. We've got the upper hand here. We're the only ones who could even reach the dragons to execute kills, never mind dealing with them if they're alerted and reacting to us. It's not like the army could back us up. So I don't think that the tactical situation is particularly important to them."

"Maybe it's all about appearances." Kindle suggested, still gazing out at the night. "I mean, we are a secret weapon, right? They can't send us out without undermining confidence in their own strength. Can't risk looking like they're leaning on some outsider's power to win the war for them. Especially Lysander. He can't go home saying 'yeah, I just stood around and let these girls take care of things.'"

Ember chuckled dryly. "You can say that again." The others cracked grins.

"But yeah," Kindle went on, "I guess I'm kind of agreeing that maybe we're being too eager and not looking at their side of it. It still stings though, y'know? Having that choice taken from us when we know it could've worked."

"I'd prefer that sting of pride than the sting of getting incicled when the dragons come down on us en masse." Ash pointed out.

Kindle pouted at that. "Yeah, yeah, you made your point. Doesn't mean I have to like it!"

Cinder set down her spoon and stared at her half-eaten bowl, brows furrowed. Ember waited, recognizing the signs that her pragmatic self was working her way through something knottier than normal conversation allowed for.

Finally, Cinder spoke. "Well, if we're gonna be sitting around for two weeks, what's the actual plan? I get fortifying, preparing, blah blah. But what does that translate to, day-to-day?"

Ember exchanged glances with the others. "We can train to get used to the double integration more efficiently, and to keep ourselves in the best possible shape. Beyond that, I don't know."

"Hey, look at it this way—at least we won't have to worry about the dragons poking their snouts into our camp for a couple weeks." Kindle observed, trying to look on the bright side. "So that's good, right?"

"You think they won't immediately retaliate after learning one of theirs died?" Cinder asked sardonically. "No chance Nethysara's gonna let that slide, not after the stunts she's pulled."

"They could be as cautious as Valerian, though," Ember chimed in. "If the fact that we're strange new enemies worries them, they might pull back and reassess their approach, just like we are."

The pragmatist groaned. "Ugh, that sounds far too optimistic, even for me." She rolled her neck. "So what you're saying is that while the generals hem and haw about long-term planning and logistics and whatever else, we're just gonna kick back here with nothing to do for days?"

"I'm sure they'll find plenty for us," Ash soothed. "Probably just as well, really. We need rest after everything. And you've always said practice is its own reward, right? There'll be time to figure out better ways of integrating, maybe even new things to try with our pyrokinesis."

Ember nodded, stretching out her limbs. "She's right, Cinder. It's frustrating, but... they're probably right."

Cinder grumbled but relented. Pyra and Kindle muttered similar complaints but conceded the point. For now, they'd have to make their peace with the situation and focus on preparing in their own way.

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