“Stop,” Gwynora snapped.
Cyrene frowned. Gwynora’s own father had been killed by the Braj. “Tell them, Gwynora.”
“They exist.”
Joffrey and Brendt looked like they might protest, but one look from Gwynora was enough to keep them silent. Magic wasn’t as taboo in Eleysia as it had been in Byern. But it was still a relatively foreign concept to these men.
“Malysa has spent the last several thousand years trapped in the mountains. Her spirit disconnected from her body while she toyed with the minds of the weak. She tainted Viktor Dremylon and converted him to her cause. She is the reason that magic was all but wiped out in Emporia. She wanted to keep us weak for her return. You have to see the threat that she poses.”
“She sounds like a fairy tale,” Brendt scoffed. “Some story you tell little children to scare them.”
“All fairy tales are true,” Cyrene said. Every one she had ever heard was not a fantasy. They had all come from somewhere. “There are dragons out on the plains as we speak. You have walked into a fairy tale, gentlemen. You should get used to it.”
“You have said that the enemy is fearsome,” Fenix offered. His arched eyebrow and smirk said he wasn’t really taking this seriously. “But how do we defeat her? Did you see how to do that, too?”
“We take the fight to her doorstep and crush her while she’s weak.”
“Yes, but how?” Fenix asked.
“We have two armies, three dragons, and enough magic to win in a fight against her. We lost because she had the element of surprise. We use that to our advantage. And we either do it now or wait for her to grow more powerful than we can possibly stop.”
Brendt shook his head. Joffrey seemed unconvinced. Brigette looked as if she was about to tear Cyrene down at any moment.
But even Gwynora seemed skeptical. “Cyrene, I understand the urgency. But we need a plan.”
“She doesn’t have a plan,” Joffrey burst out. “She is a child. How old are you? Sixteen? Seventeen?”
Cyrene gritted her teeth. “Eighteen.” Almost nineteen.
He scoffed. “Eighteen years old, and you think that you should command this army? What experience do you have? Where is your training? Your expertise? What battles have you fought in? Do you even know how to use that sword at your belt?”
Cyrene saw red. “I am not a trained battle commander. I have never claimed to be part of your military service. I was trained in magic. I can access all four elements and harness spirit magic. I have spent the last two years doing nothing but working toward this very moment. Training physically, mentally, and spiritually to win this war.” She pulled Shadowbreaker from its sheath and leveled it at his chest. “And the answer is yes,” she hissed, “I know how to use this sword.”
The tension in the room escalated. Joffrey stared her down, clearly itching to reach for his own sword at his belt. Cyrene waited to see if he’d dare.
When he didn’t, she sheathed the sword. “I am not what you wanted. I understand that. I was trained to be a lady and a scholar. I didn’t ask for this magic, but I will not walk away from doing what is right.”
“I just don’t see why you think we should follow someone so…untrained,” Brigette said in distaste. “Your magic changes nothing if you have no strategy to implement it.”
“Aside from that,” Brendt added, “your temper proves enough that you’re unfit.”
Unfit.
She couldn’t believe these imbeciles would throw that word at her. They had no idea what she had gone through. No clue what she had sacrificed or the price she had paid to get here. She was not a soldier. Not in the way they understood. But she was far, far from unfit.
“Brendt,” Gwynora snapped.
But Brendt just stood and thrust his arm toward Cyrene. “We followed her harebrained idea once to go to war against Aurum and Byern. That’s how we got here in the first place. She had no plan then. She has no plan now.”
“The prophecy says that she will lead us,” Gwynora said.
“I, for one, will not put my trust in some superstition,” Brendt muttered.
“Neither will I,” Brigette said, standing. “Eleysia will not go on your suicide mission. We have lost enough.”
Joffrey and Darmian both nodded their silent agreement.
Cyrene’s gaze shifted to Gwynora, who looked helpless at the other end of the table.
“Fenix?” Gwynora asked.
“You’re the strongest among us, Gwyn,” Fenix said.
“Cyrene is stronger.”
Fenix shook his head. “I’ve seen nothing to confirm that.”
Cyrene opened her mouth to object. Gwynora only had her ability to use her magic because of Cyrene. She had convinced Gwynora not to see magic as a burden that her father had bestowed upon her.
But Gwynora shook her head. “She’s stronger. She took down a sea dragon with a lightning bolt.”
“It doesn’t make her the leader. Nor does it mean she has the best judgment.”
Gwynora looked even more uncertain. “I think…I think we need more planning.”
Cyrene’s eyes rounded. She was serious. She was going to just sit around and wait. “Gwynora…”
“The Network needs more time. It needs to practice with magic out in the open. It needs training that you have and we are sorely lacking. We’re haphazard at best. I can’t risk these people who have put their lives in my hands.”
Cyrene’s eyes moved from Gwynora to Orden and Avoca. The only ones who hadn’t made up their minds in this. Her friends. The ones who had seen her through everything. Through all of her crazy ideas. They might not have all worked perfectly, but they were here now. They had come out on the other side. This wasn’t something she could just let slip by. If Malysa grew stronger, she didn’t know what they would be able to do to beat her.
“I think Gwynora is right,” Orden said softly.
“What?” Cyrene gasped.
“You’ve always been rash. Maybe we should plan more with the other magical users. Have a real chance.”
Cyrene turned to her bound sister. To Avoca standing against the tent wall. Her silence so loud in the war room.
“Avoca?”
Her gaze slowly lifted. “Ahlvie is gone.”
“We will get him back.”
“I have always gone along with all of your plans, Cyrene,” Avoca said, her voice hard, her eyes blazing. “I believed that you would always win out in the end. There was never a doubt in my mind that you should lead us. But now, Ahlvie is gone. And you have no real plan to get him back. Just false hope.”
“Avoca, no, that’s not it at all,” Cyrene said. Her heart ached at the words. At the harsh quality that Cyrene had never heard from the Leif who was practically her sister. She might be over a hundred years old, but it had always felt like they were two sides of the same coin.
“It is. Everyone is telling you that we can’t just rush in without a plan. That we need time and resources and training. Otherwise, we are walking into a trap, and we will all die. But you don’t care.” Avoca stepped up to the table. The strength in her body evident. The pain even more so. “You want to play at hero, like always.”