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The night tasted of iron and storm when the healers finally finished tending Veylara. She lay in the dim ward, breath shallow but steady, the faint marks of the Conclave still etched across her skin like bruised constellations. Bao Bao hadn't left her side since they brought her in, his hand wrapped around hers as if anchoring her spirit to the world.
Naelith stood at the doorway, watching silently.
He hadn't noticed her enter. He hadn't noticed anything except Veylara.
For a moment, Naelith's chest tightened—not with jealousy this time, but with fear. She had seen the strike from a distance, seen Veylara crumple under the Conclave's shadowfire, and in that instant she had understood something she never said aloud:
Bao Bao's strength was tied to the people he refused to lose.
When Veylara stirred, Bao Bao leaned closer. Her eyes opened weakly.
"You're safe," he whispered.
She managed a faint smile. "I saw… their faces. The Conclave. They've changed. They… they're not just shadows anymore. They're… hollow."
Naelith's voice softened as she entered fully. "You did well, Veylara. You survived something meant to erase you."
Veylara tried to sit up, but Bao Bao steadied her. "Rest. The healers warned—"
"Bao Bao." She touched his wrist. "You need to hear this."
Something in her tone sharpened both their attention.
"They weren't searching for me," she whispered. "They were searching for you."
The room fell silent.
Naelith's hand drifted to her chest, where her Sunfire crest tingled. "Why you? What would they want with the Sun King?"
Veylara swallowed. "They said… 'the light returns.' And that it must be silenced before it awakens the rest."
Bao Bao stiffened. Heat rippled off his shoulders, faint but unmistakable. Naelith sensed it instantly—the same strange surge he'd shown on the Ash Plains, but sharper, brighter, burning clean through the air.
"Bao," she murmured, stepping closer, "your power—"
He closed his eyes, visibly restraining it. "It responds to danger. It responds to… them."
Veylara exhaled slowly. "It saved me. When they struck me down, something flared on the horizon. Light. I thought it was the sun but… it was you."
Naelith and Bao Bao exchanged a glance neither of them tried to hide.
Before either could speak, the doors burst open. A Bronze messenger from Torren's ranks stumbled inside, breathless and pale.
"Your Majesties—General—" He bowed shaky. "The Council… they've convened without you. They're voting… on restricting the armies' command."
Naelith's expression hardened. "Restricting? In the middle of an Umbra attack?"
"They say the throne is compromised," the messenger whispered.
Veylara tried to rise again, frustration burning through her exhaustion. "Sorell is moving while we're weakened. He wants control before the Conclave strikes again."
Bao Bao stood slowly, the light behind his eyes still flickering. "We don't have time to argue with politicians."
Naelith stopped him with a hand to his chest. "And if we don't go now, they'll tear apart everything we built."
Veylara raised her head from the bed. "Go. Both of you. I'll be there once I can stand."
Bao Bao hesitated—but Naelith gently pushed him toward the door, her voice low.
"She's right. And the Council cannot be allowed to fracture the kingdom while the shadows gather."
He nodded once, but his gaze lingered on Veylara for a long moment before he followed Naelith out.
What none of them noticed—what Veylara alone felt—was the subtle pulse of power that followed Bao Bao. Not Sunfire. Not the new golden resonance.
Something older.
Something the Conclave feared.
She whispered to the empty room, her voice trembling.
"…You're changing, Bao. And they know it."
The shadows along the ceiling shivered, as if listening.
Waiting.