Halbrecht's voice carried.

  "...the hour appointed has arrived..."

  It rose and fell behind us in measured crescendos, a practiced cadence that threaded through stone and air alike. Even without catching the words in full, one could feel the intent behind them: conviction shaped into rhythm, certainty given breath. The sound moved through the courtyard like a current, lifting the weary and stiffening spines that had bent beneath days of attrition.

  I couldn't afford to heed it.

  Our party stood just inside the shadow of the western gate, out of sight of the assembled ranks. I passed around hard bread and tin cups. They steamed faintly in the cold air—a broth I'd made from salt and dried roots.

  Rocher tore a piece from the bread and chewed without apparent awareness of it. Evelyn leaned against the gate hinge, bancing her cup on the heel of one glove. Seraphine held hers close to her chest, gaze distant, as if she had forgotten it was there.

  Beyond the gate, the courtyard y in arrested ruin, its shattered stone held in that impossible stillness we had witnessed from the battlements. At its heart, the silhouettes remained locked in eternal conflict, unmoving and terrible.

  I spread the map across a supply crate and weighed its corners with fragments of stone.

  "Listen carefully," I said. "We won't have the luxury of repeating this once it starts."

  Rocher swallowed and shifted closer. Evelyn straightened without leaving the hinge.

  "There are four gates opening onto the courtyard," I said, tapping each in turn. "We're responsible for mounting the offensive from this one. Halbrecht and his lieutenants will take care of the others."

  Rocher studied the lines I had drawn. "You're pnning to have us charge straight into the field?"

  "Yes."

  He frowned. "Wouldn't that trap us also?"

  "Only momentarily," I said. "The dition gradient is exponential. The closer you get to the center, the more time compresses retive to the perimeter. You'll want to maximize your momentum before the gradient steepens."

  Rocher tilted his head, then looked to Seraphine, confusion pin on his face.

  She exhaled through her nose. "Time gets slower the closer you get to the center. You'll need to be fully committed by the time the field comes down. Otherwise, you'll lose too much time waiting at the edges."

  "With half of us underground," I added, "it'll be impossible to coordinate a clean start. This is the best option."

  He nodded slowly. "I think I get it..."

  "For what it's worth, you won't feel it happening," I said. "Your perception will slow with your movements. For you, the flow of time will seem normal."

  Seraphine shrugged. "Technically by being here, we're already inside the field. Though at this distance, we're only fractions behind the rest of the world."

  Evelyn blew across the surface of her broth, then took a careful sip. "Just resist the urge to shove the person ahead of you if they look like they're moving too slowly."

  Rocher's brow furrowed once more.

  I cleared my throat. "Halbrecht himself volunteered to participate in the charge, if his enthusiasm means anything."

  I gnced toward Halbrecht in the distance. He was standing atop a raised block of stone, his white-and-gold vestments catching the dull light. The crowd's attention bent toward him like iron filings to a magnet.

  "If he hadn't," I whispered, "I might've been concerned he would use the opportunity to trap us here indefinitely."

  Evelyn grimaced. "Cooperation founded on the threat of mutual destruction. That always makes me feel better."

  "We each have something at stake," I said quietly. "That, too, is a form of trust."

  She huffed softly.

  Seraphine's attention remained fixed on the map. "Cire, you mentioned some of us would be underground. Who?"

  I turned to her.

  "Rocher and Evelyn will be in charge of things up top," I said, "You and I will descend with Phymera once everyone's committed."

  Seraphine frowned. "I'm not part of the offensive?"

  "You're needed down there," I said. "Phymera's presence will let us bypass Nyxara's encryption long enough for you to rewrite the spell."

  She tilted her head. "Rewrite it? I thought we were meant to break it."

  "We are," I said. "But we can also use it. Make it serve a different purpose."

  I stepped to the edge of the gate and motioned them closer.

  "Look."

  They followed my gaze toward the center of the devastation. Toward the Demon Lord.

  Even at this distance, the silhouette was wrong. One wing hung in tattered ruin. The other was folded tight, its edges jagged like torn parchment.

  "Danzig's done a number to his wings, but the Demon Lord can recover them faster than you think," I said. "If he feels cornered, he will try to take the air. And if he escapes..."

  I let the thought linger.

  "We don't let it get to that," Rocher said.

  "We don't," I agreed. "We repurpose Nyxara's magic to restrict his vertical movement."

  Seraphine shook her head.

  "Why not just kill it outright?" she said. "Before it can regenerate itself. We don't have to jump through these hoops if I blow it up the instant the seal breaks."

  I sighed. "I might have considered that option if we had the power of the Saintess behind us," I said. "But as we are, that's a gamble, pure and simple. If we misjudge our strength here, we lose the seal and gain a second Demon Lord."

  Seraphine rubbed her temples.

  "If we go with your pn, we'll need to move quickly," she said. "Nyxara's spell only works if all eight anchor points operate in tandem. The moment the first anchor is rewritten, the dition field colpses. We'd have to reach the remaining seven before it gets a chance to escape."

  "Yes." I flipped the map. "I've already drawn up the route."

  The lines connected the anchors in a tight progression, shortening time and distance between them.

  Seraphine stood, studying it. She frowned. "That pathing is... ambitious."

  "It's efficient," I corrected. "And I'll be there to guide you every step of the way."

  Her eyes lingered on me, measuring. Then she huffed and sat back down.

  Evelyn broke another piece of bread and tucked it into her cheek. "You're leaving out one obvious problem."

  I looked at her.

  "For however long this takes you, Sera won't be there to support us," she said, her mouth full. "That's a lot of firepower we'd be missing."

  Evelyn swallowed. "Never mind killing it. Just surviving will be a tall order."

  "We can head up as soon as we're done," I said. "But containment must take priority. If the Demon Lord escapes, whether we win or not becomes irrelevant."

  Rocher's jaw set. "I'll buy you the time you need," he said. "Whatever you need."

  I nodded.

  For a moment, no one spoke. Seraphine's cup clicked softly against stone. Steam thinned in the air.

  Then Halbrecht's voice thundered beyond the gate.

  "...stand as one, in defiance of the unholy..."

  A murmur rolled through the gathered ranks in answer—shields shifting, armor settling, breath drawn and held. I knew that posture: the quiet bracing that turned men into martyrs.

  I looked at the group of padins nearest us. Their faces were calm. Resolved. Already beyond the reach of pain.

  A tightness gathered beneath my ribs.

  "Take the first phase of this slow," I said, without turning. "Prioritize self-preservation. If you're injured, don't try to push through it. Find Lumiere immediately."

  Rocher followed my gaze. His hand brushed my shoulder, light and brief.

  Across the courtyard's edge, I spotted Lumiere among the priests, her mantle pale against the darker cloth. Even at a distance, the calm set of her shoulders was unmistakable.

  As if sensing it, she picked that moment to gnce up. Our eyes met.

  She nodded—a silent promise passing between us.

  Seraphine turned to Evelyn and held out her orb, its inner light pulsing faintly.

  "I am entrusting you with this," she said. "It's one of my precious few prototypes. Don't break it. If you do, I will haunt you forever."

  Evelyn accepted it with surprising solemnity. "I will guard it with my life."

  Seraphine winced. "No. Not your life. I expect both of you back in one piece."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Rocher exhaled a quiet ugh.

  Halbrecht's voice climbed toward a crescendo. A cheer followed—not wild, but steady. Resolute. The air felt charged.

  "Seems like they're just about ready," I said, folding the map and slipping it back into my satchel.

  Evelyn secured the orb at her belt and settled the Sacred Mask against her hip.

  Rocher rolled his shoulders once and turned toward the courtyard. After a moment, he looked back at me.

  "Whatever happens," he said, "I trust you, Cire."

  My mouth twitched.

  Then the gate chains began to rattle. Iron links shuddered. Stone groaned. Light spilled inward as the gap widened.

  The courtyard waited beyond—vast, ruined, and impossible.

  I drew a slow breath.

  "Seraphine."

  She looked over at me.

  "It's time."