When the six of them winnowed in atop the House of Wind, Fiona was momentarily stunned, wondering how they had managed to spend so long in the Hewn City that night had fallen. It was only when the dense plumes of black began to move that she realised it was smoke.

Velaris was up in flames.

The harbour breeze and gust over the clifftops was not enough to dispel the rising towers of soot being swept into the air, carrying on the wind such bloodcurdling screams, pleas of such desperation that the longer they watched, the more the horrors engulfed them. Fiona felt swallowed up by the city, as though she was already down there. She pictured the tidalwave of blood cresting the Rainbow, smelling the acrid tang of soot as the flames licked their way through the Palace of Thread & Jewels.

Gabriel dropped to his knees beside her, tears brimming in his wide eyes. 

"It's here," he whispered. "It's all coming true...I- I don't know how I didn't see it before." He was blinking fiercely, as though hoping he might wake up from the terror and bloodshed. "It was Keir...Keir was the king of stone all along."

Bella was shaking her head slowly, staring down into the city. "I don't understand."

"So much blood," Gabriel whimpered, wings drooping onto the stone behind him. Fiona wanted to reassure him, but no fae could ignore the sounds and scents of suffering below them. They could smell it already, the irony tang of blood rising above the city and mingling with the smoke, like some horrid haze of death.

"I don't understand," Bella repeated. "If Keir was down there, then who's up here?"

"Darkbringers." Xander's violet gaze was fixed on the smog engulfing the docks. "Some footsoldiers, some lesser fae, and..."

Fiona spotted them in the same instant he did. Keir's legions were spread across the wreckage, furthering the boundary of flame and anguish in small, uncoordinated spurts. But there was one large group working through the streets with methodical malice. One platoon of soldiers in gleaming armour, marching beneath a familiar sigil: a red fox beneath an oak tree.

Green satin was balled into smouldering fists of fabric. "Eris." Though Fiona was trembling with rage, her voice did not waver as she spoke her father's name aloud, felt that rush of hatred as the wind whispered murder in her ears.

"But how did they get in?"

"The wards." Nyx was still as stone, unblinking as he watched the destruction unfold. "Father was taking down the wards today."

"But how did he know?" Bella snapped, slowly working back to life as her shock was replaced by cold, coursing fury.

Nyx had no answer, but he shook his head. "I'm going to find Keir," was all he said, before he blipped out of sight. For a minute, all they could hear was Gabriel's quiet sobbing. But Fiona could not stand to stay another moment on that rooftop, watching her father's troops lay waste to her home.

Before she'd even moved, before she'd so much as taken a pre-emptive breath, Xander had an arm out to block her. Fiona turned her murderous gaze on him. "I'm going down there."

"Our priority is evacuation." he told her. Though she could see the panic rimming his pupils, knew the swirling abyss of fear was threatening to consume him, he gave his orders with quiet strength. "Bella will go to Cassian and find out where the front line is. Gabriel and I will go and hold off the darkbringers, Riordan-"

The Prince of Daybreak glanced up, as though only just noticing them.

"You and Fiona will go to the residential quarters and evacuate the remaining citizens."

Riordan nodded with solemn determination. Xander was already summoning blades from across the rooftop, handing out weapons left and right.

"I'm going to find Eris." Fiona told him, flames licking at her fingertips in silent warning. 

He shook his head. "It would be the perfect trap." Xander held her steady in his gaze. "If you want to help, if you really want to fight him, then go and evacuate the palaces before he can get there."

She was tempted to disagree - burning to. But the wails of the dying and dead were impossible to ignore, and growing shriller by the second. Every moment they stood there arguing was another life lost. So she nodded. The look she exchanged with Xander was charged with a thousand different emotions that she smothered as she passed him, grabbing Riordan by the wrist and winnowing them both down into the smoke.

They landed in the Artists Quarter among rubble and ruin, where from the ashes emerged Feyre and her son Tristan, fighting off a small pack of naga from a shopfront. Riordan sent a bolt of light at the last one and it landed true, burying itself in the creature's chest as it gave a last gurgle and collapsed. 

Feyre turned with wild eyes, double blades raised at her sides. Fiona had no doubt that, had the smoke been an inch thicker, she would have slain them there and then. But her eyes softened with recognition as she approached them, wiping thick black blood on her leathers.

"Thank you for being here, both of you." She planted a kiss on Riordan's forehead, and stopped in front of Fiona, one hand on her cheek. There was a moment where blue met hazel, and Fiona felt a jolt run through her as she remembered what Xander had told her, how he had found out. Feyre seemed to be remembering the same, and in the space of a heartbeat reality folded between them, the thread of another life wound around her pupils. A life where this city had been her home, where she had been raised beneath the moon and starlight, and where Riordan and her had played with their toys amongst Illyrians instead of foxes. A life where she might have known warmth, and love. 

But there was no time to ask what Feyre had or hadn't known, who else had kept from her the secret of her birthright.

Tristan appeared beside them, panting but unwearied. "There are more," he gestured behind him with his sword. "They're making their way toward the bay."

"We'll leave you to evacuate the rest." Feyre glanced between Riordan and Fiona. "I'll clear a path toward the docks so they can get on the ships. The surviving sailors have been told to head for the Steppes."

"Of course," Fiona nodded tightly. "Consider it done."

The High Lady spared her a grateful look before bounding off with her son by her side. Though they soon set about escorting the cowering citizens from their shopfronts and in the direction of the harbour, it wasn't long before another leering pack of naga rounded on the Palace. Scaled in hate and rot, they grinned at one another, clicking their flesh-shredding talons as they sized up their prey.

Riordan snapped his fingers and a fistful of blazing light appeared in his palm. "Ready, cousin?"

Fiona dropped into the familiar stance Bella had made her practice a thousand times, trying to counterbalance the unfamiliar addition in her hand. "Y'know, I've never actually used one of these before," she grinned, twirling the beaten steel appreciatively.

Dan's sudden anxious twitch was answer enough, but still he uttered, "That doesn't exactly fill me with confidence."

Somewhat delirious with fear and adrenaline, Fiona let out a wild cackle as she launched herself into battle, all too conscious of the Velarians still attempting to scramble out from the rubble behind them. The naga's attention was easily directed, and they seized on her while Riordan closed in, firing beams of light that made them hiss and screech upon contact. 

Though the sword was certainly an adjustment, Bella's training had paid off; every movement extended her range of motion, and she began to imagine the weapon as an extension of herself as it followed what used to be her jabs and punches. The naga were nimble, and hard to fight in a group, but with Fiona's glamours popping up left and right they were easy to distract. Riordan began aiming his artillery from behind them for an element of deflection before joining the fray, pivoting back to back with her as they blocked and parried the gnashing fangs and claws of the hateful beasts. 

Amidst their combat harmony came the occasional piercing wail of an innocent life from a few streets away, or the flash of thick, black blood as Fiona's sword made contact. They would jolt her out of the rhythm of the fight and remind her of the destruction all around them, faltering the path of her strikes.

Not now, she would tell herself, refusing to acknowledge the sinew and flesh she tore open with her blade. I can't think about it now, she urged, refusing to hear the sickening crack of bone breaking as Riordan landed a heavy blow beside her.

At some point they finished with the naga, though Fiona hardly noticed while the blood was roaring in her ears. When she looked up at her cousin she found he had the same half-crazed look in his eyes, still scanning for enemies around them.

"We make a half-decent team, cousin." Riordan managed a smile as he took in her pale countenance, his eyes dropping to her bare legs as the satin blew between them in the wind. "Though I do wish you were wearing a tad more clothing." He quickly averted his gaze and pulled her in for a sweaty, blood-stained hug.

Fiona's laugh came out strained. "Come on," she pulled away, walking in the direction of the docks. "We've got more ground to cover."

The next Palace was mercifully empty of citizens and enemies when they arrived, but they found many a cowering customer in the slew of shops on the smaller, meandering streets between them. Most of the fighting seemed to have become concentrated, and was clustered closer to the cliffs, which made their job that much easier as they encountered little resistance escorting the survivors to the harbour.

Ships were waiting and ready to cast off, their sails fluttering gently in the breeze as the people of Velaris lined up in neat, silent little queues to board them. Though the faces were sombre as they climbed the boardwalk, there were thankfully many of them, and equally as many unharmed ships. 

It was strange to her, to look at the glimmering sea and find it still that rich blue, the waves just as constant, the sails just as white. That there was a horizon beyond of Velaris, that did not weep when she wept and bleed when she bled was odd to Fiona. The citizens seemed to feel the same, harbouring the slightest scraps of hope in the bundle of possessions they carried, as though seeing the tide and remembering that somewhere, war was not raging.

Riordan and Fiona took it in turns to sweep the streets and guard the docks, picking up the stragglers and fending off any lesser fae who had broken away from the fight in search of a hunt. Though every citizen saved lessened the pounding of her heart, Fiona couldn't shake the urge to turn and run to the battle, or to at least onto the next street, wandering out further each time. She kept imagining Eris around every corner, suddenly standing before him with the truth in the open between them. She wondered if her blade would tremble in her hands as she thrust it into him.

Riordan returned from another search and interrupted her morbid fantasies with a pixie mother and child at his side, both quaking and thanking him profusely. "Your turn," he panted. "I'll stay and guard."

Fiona was just about to leave when a trio of familiar faces appeared before them, winnowing into sharp focus on the pavement. 

"Bella!" The girls collided, squeezing each other tight. Fiona's nostrils flared as she scented blood and the reek of death on her and her parents behind her. She pulled away, anxious eyes roving over the three of them in search of injury. 

"I'm fine, Fiona," Bella assured her with a tired smile. "We're all fine."

Cassian gave an appreciate whistle, looking to the crowded ships in the bay. "You two have certainly been busy." 

Riordan walked toward them, relief etched clear on his face. "What's happening up there, at the front?"

"It's a mess," Nesta sighed. "But Rhys has just about got it under control. The Illyrians will be arriving soon, and then we'll be able to drive out the rest of the darkbringers and..." she glanced nervously to Fiona.

"And Eris' troops." she finished for her, mouth set in a hard line. "Did you see him? Is he here with them?"

The three warriors shook their heads.

"And what about Xander?" she pressed. "Is he up there still?"

"Fighting with his father," Nesta glanced over her shoulder to the rooftops beneath the red rock cliffs. Fiona followed her gaze to the haze of red mist and shadow eating away at the ensuing darkbringers. She wished her vision was just a bit sharper, couldn't be certain it was him beneath all that blood and bone, desperate for a glimpse of him alive and unharmed.

Suddenly a larger, more menacing shadow crested the cliffs above the city, looming large as an eclipse above the smoke. Fiona reached for her sword but Bella stopped her, eyes shining. "It's the Illyrians," she explained, a half-shattered laugh escaping her lips. "They've arrived."

She looked again, this time able to pick out gaps of light between the thousands of beating wings, the glint of steel strapped by their sides. They were so uniform, she thought, so perfectly aligned and disciplined to be hovering in the sky like a predator paused, ready to strike.

Cassian exhaled a long breath. "Now we've got 'em," he chuckled, leaning forward to plant a kiss on Bella's forehead. "You stay here and fight with your friends, keep these people safe." he told her. He turned to Nesta, a glimmer of what looked like pride in those warm eyes of his. "I'm going to order the legions. I'll find you when it's over."

Mother and daughter nodded together, his warm hope echoed in their weak smiles. The next moment Cassian shot into the sky, great powerful wings carrying him to his people. Another lone Illyrian darted up above the rooftops near the centre of town, where Fiona could just make out Azriel's lithe silhouette flying toward the legion.

The whole city held its breath, the battle pausing to watch Prythian's mightiest heroes rise above the blood and fog in silent preparation. The crowd in the harbour seemed to notice all at once, sending up a chorus of cheering to fly with them.

Fiona felt the cool hand of relief as she watched Cassian and Azriel take their place at the head of the Illyrian army, siphons glinting like a thousand stars on a deep black sky. A shiver travelled down her spine and for one moment she felt the tides of history lap at the shores of Velaris, legacy frothing by her feet in anticipation as Prythian watched on, waiting for the tide to turn. 

The formation rippled, morphing into a sharper shape, like a divine spear aimed at the city with Azriel and Cassian at its head. Then it changed, shifting again to gather around the generals in pockets of looming shadow.

Nesta squinted, craning for a better view. "What are they doing..?" she murmured.

They watched intently, hearts pounding in their throats. The two generals disappeared from view, swallowed up by the legion, and for a moment Fiona thought they might be diving, descending on the city in a rippling horde. But then twin lights split the sky simultaneously, firing out from within the legion in a sudden implosion; one blue sphere which flashed from within, scattering a handful of Illyrians out over the rooftops - and one perfect red line, fired up toward the sun. 

The city fell utterly silent. The only sound to be heard was the gentle eddy of the sea against the docks as Velaris watched a single figure drop out from beneath the horde, one red siphon glare trailing from their fist. Fiona just made out a set of wings gone limp beneath them, dark hair whipping in the air before she realised Cassian was falling, plummeting toward the Velaris from the heavens.