We leave early, overstocked by our generous host, who feels that if we are fed, we may live.

 The ones we leave behind are upset to see us go, yet the idea of trading untrained soldiers for battle-ready youth gives me hope when I feel challenged. The twenty-five rebel soldiers we have gained bring our numbers to a higher level than I feel capable of managing. 

 I've hardly slept, Tonic mirrors my exhaustion as Frost runs us through the morning report. Tejo is front and center, walking with the generals and filling us in on the other side with all the details of where the elf guard could be hiding. The words melt together in a dull roar as I attempt to make sense of battle strategy and terminology I'd never heard before, coupled with Lycan accents.

How did Alpha manage? 

I sometimes remember seeing him walking briskly with four men speaking simultaneously. Often, I assumed he just did a better job hiding what he didn't know. My expression is blank, and I see Tonic's eyes drift as we march along. 

I'm sitting on his back again; Penelope sleeps on Frost, cuddled into his neck scruff. I envy her and wonder if I could get away with a nap. The dull roar fades in and out with the highs and lows of conversation. "Stop." Tonic finally says, laying his ears back.

 Everyone falls silent. 

"One at a time." He sounds irritated. "Please. Frost. Start over." He turns his attention to our pale comrade, who looks sympathetic. 

"Alpha, truly, Tejo must go first if we have to take turns. His information is probably more so what we need to know." 

"Can I not just be... Tonic?" He asks, deflating. 

"Not today," Frost responds quietly. 

"Right.." The gray wolf sighs. "Tejo then. Proceed." 

We are told that the elves are in a small town on our path, a small sentry group watching the city. They reside in Sighișoara, which surprises me since it's known for its Strigoi and has a rumor of being haunted. 

 I keep this information to myself and try not to think about Stefan too strongly. Sighisoara was one of my favorite places to visit as a child. Its beautiful towers never ceased to amaze me. We did a lot of trading there as it's surrounded by a bunch of tiny cities—a small country on its own.

 As a child, one of my best friends resided in a castle there, the Citadel. As Tejo talks, I briefly wonder if he was alive and if there would be a chance I'd ever see him again. All at once, I'm reminded that I have very little to return to as far as friends and that I would have even less when this was all over.

Tejo describes the familiar walls, and I try not to interrupt him as I see the city from his eyes. 

The tight alleys I used to run through as a child, the copious bridges, and various towers are now beacons of death where enemies could hide. A wall partially surrounds the city, resting on top of a hill on the high ground. 

I keep wondering how my father ended up in the humble city of Dezna, which has no real claim to fame except for what we built there. Perhaps that was the appeal: a stone city built by the Lord of Magic.

 This time, I will see Sighisoara through the eyes of someone who wishes to conquer it. "There's a way in." I finally manage, cutting through the chatter. If I'm going to do this, I must do it to the best of my ability.

"There is a stone path that leads to the gates that go under the city, a wine cellar for The Citadel. If the royal family is gone, it would put us on the high ground. We used to be friends, and I imagine they would help us."

 Or we would have to come to terms with conquering them. 

"A lot of faith to put on friends." Jerrick doesn't surprise me that he disagrees with my plans. 

"Better than dying at the walls of a city we don't even really want to conquer," Einar remarks. 

Tonic finally cuts in. "A small group can go in through the Citadel, was it? We can let the others in." 

"Mm. Won't work. The city is a maze; it's all crammed together. It would take all night to get from the Citadel to the main gates, and even then, it'd be hell finding every last elf in such a city." I stifle a yawn, early mornings were never my strong suit and stress exhausted me.

"We could burn it down." Penelope chimes in, resting like a cat on the window sill of Frost's back.

"Absolutely not!" Tonic and I mirror each other, much to Jerrick's disgust. 

"What then? We can't go in; we can't smoke them out. The space is too tight, so do we leave an elf force there?" Dirk snaps, frustrated.

I explained that we might be able to make the space bigger. With a massive courtyard in front of the castle, we could break down that wall and pour into the city from there. The walls would keep everyone in; we could fan out and take the courtyard as our high ground. 

If they wished to leave the city, they would have to confront us on our terms. We could send soldiers in while the rest remained in the clearing. This would be a good test and tactic to use on Ziduri.

I'm sickened by my mind. 

The crowd buzzes with this newfound plan, and word quickly spreads. A city that I loved so much as a child was about to become a bloodbath, and I'm not sure how I would cope when it came time to break her open and kill the people her walls protected.  

"Good job." Penelope brings me from my inner turmoil. Her eyes are soft. "If we didn't have you, we wouldn't know the city was a death maze. We would be flying blind." 

I feel like I doomed innocent people. The city was designed to defend them, which would be their demise. It had to be this way, I tell myself. It's better them than us.

 "I spent a lot of time there as a child. I have a lot of friends there."

 When we bed down for the night, I bring to the attention of our now five generals that no harm is to come to the royal family or any Strigoi. I can't keep it a secret from my people; the city is very close to a coven of Strigoi and is a popular site for their works with the dark arts and harvesting spirits.

I remind them that this is a spiritual place to be respected. I'm met with reluctant agreement at Tonic's command. No harm should fall on my friends or allies, though I wonder if we will truly see that remain true. 

To burn off the anxiety, I take up my time by practicing with Penelope when we stop for the night. I aim my hands towards the sky and work to call a storm, as I had before, the day I froze Beta in his tracks. The clouds argue with me. They won't move, and if anything, they fight back, drifting away like I'm bothering them. 

Penelope giggles. 

"Won't be makin' a storm from those clouds. Wrong type. They're too close to the ground, good for fog, though if you can pull it down here, you don't have to manage it." She looks amused at my apparent lack of basic knowledge. 

I was still reeling from the fact that there was this much knowledge to gain from such a horrific experience. It left me to wonder what exactly I'd been doing while these teachings were going on; when was I supposed to have absorbed this knowledge? 

Sitting cross-legged in the grass, I open my spellbook. Flipping to a quick refresher on clouds surprises me more than I liked to admit that my handwriting had scrawled these very notes. It was a coping mechanism to block things out; I supposed that meant everything surrounding those events. 

 I glance back at the darkening sky. Tracking the spell with the end of my finger, I recite it in my head to remember its feel. 

The wind reminded me of the beat of dragon wings as the beasts hovered overhead, hiding among the lightning as we were picked off by the one who was capable of controlling the weather. Their forms were like beasts in the murk, illuminated with each flash in those heavy clouds. A solomonari with no ability to influence clouds was good as dead. 

Half of our class met their fate that day.

They gathered us, plucking off those who could not get the clouds to quiver. I slam the book on the memory, returning it to my sleeve. Fuck dragons.

"Vino la mine." I beckon.

"You tell them Nicci. Get those clouds down here." Penelope plops on her back beside me in the grass, crossing her legs as she folds her hands behind her head. 

Irritated, I shout it. "Vino la mine!" The cloud falls like a rock from a rooftop; it hurtles towards us like a sheet of death and crashes to the earth in a dusty plume. I hear shouts and screams as the world goes dark and foggy; the whole lycan army has been blotted out by heavy, dense fog that you could all but drink. 

Penelope's giggle makes me grin, and I find a small bubble of laughter manages to slip out—a true laugh that I haven't experienced in so long. She snaps her fingers and sparks fly, but nothing occurs. 

"You made fog! Look! No flames!" She snaps her fingers again to show me. 

I feel a sense of accomplishment that overwhelms me, and my cheeks almost feel sore from the grin that I can't ease. It was something so simple, one of the first things we learned that I didn't even recall, only to bring me so much satisfaction. 

"Turn off the fog, Nicolas!" I hear Frost shout.

"Some of us were cooking dinner!" Dirk adds on.

I practice my technique of calling the water back to me. The fog begins to suck into my palm and swirl into a ball of water. I quickly hop up and run to one of the rain barrels, dumping the water into it. I'm met with dirty looks from soppy lycans, but Tonic is grinning too.

 I'm glad I could bring him some joy.

 Tonic shakes his gray hair out on me, and my heart thaws as the droplets splatter on my shirt. My Tonic has returned, if only for a moment. 

We spent the next day covering as much ground as we could. The cloud water was delicious and refreshing, though Peneople liked to remind me that I did little to filter it. I don't know if I can ever go back to earthly water again, even if some of the lycans won't drink it because they believe it's cursed. 

Penelope quizzes me with rapid-fire questions about my trade, and I find that I'm not drowning anymore. It's returning to me; with every spell, my stamina stretches, and I can do more. Much to my disappointment, I'm forbidden from practicing sky magic during the day as it can be seen from a distance. 

I work on a small ball of water that Penelope vaporizes for me to rematerialize. If school had been like this, I might have enjoyed it more. 

As night falls, my mood plummets with it as we arrive at the crest of Sighisoara. I can see the castle on its hill, safe and sound in the walls. At its peak, the familiar glimmer of elven armor causes my stomach to drop. We bed down for the evening and send Tejo on a scout to see what he can gather. 

Their return brings the news we were dreading: an elven squad is resting in the city limits.

 The city is full, and it appears they are using it as a second base. Taryek must be getting brave to spread his forces out in such a way, or he was planning on making an attack. Regardless, it's decided that we will storm the city tonight before we can be discovered in the morning. 

My heart is in my throat. I feel like marching all day should make everyone too exhausted to fight, but I must remind myself that this was what my father designed them for: beasts of burden, bringers of destruction, creatures that should be feared. 

As we discussed the plans, we decided that Penelope would create an explosion, which was news to me.

"You will supercharge my fireball with air. Think of it as water but less.  I'll hold it as long as I can and you throw as much wind as you can manage, when it begins to explode we will take cover then charge in. It should destroy the wall." She makes it sound so simple.

 I don't have time to think as we move towards the city's edge. We creep around on the tree line, and I feel like a predator hunting the sleeping civilians. My heart pounds, and all at once, I feel sick to my stomach as I envision the invasion of my own home. Just like this, this same army stormed my castle and killed my parents. 

It was cruel to expect me to do this, to recreate my demise. 

 I glance at Tonic as we walk, and I can see he is struggling. More people will die; we might even be among them. Swallowing back my fear, I stiffen my shoulders. I would have to be brave enough for both of us; the elves had taken this city from my people, and I needed to focus on the fact that this would earn that back for them.

"We can do this," I murmur. "For Verando."

 We reach the far wall and face the large stone barrier. 

"Ready?" Penelope breathes.

I nod and get in position.

 I hear the snap but don't see it. The spark lights the friction her hands create in one smooth pass as she begins to circle her hands, creating the fireball that will break open the city, exposing her soft underbelly. 

Penelope grows and compresses the ball, every compression making it lighter in color and hotter. The pack begins to back away, intimidated by the ability this woman possesses to encase fire in her bare hands. She clenches her jaw and squeezes it down as hard as possible before growing it again, spinning a web of flame that she forces into the compact ball. 

"Get ready. Give me some air." 

I start with sweeping motions, sending the air into the ball. It blazes and bobbles. I wonder if it will go out, but she compresses it down, and again, the ball begins to spin as if it wants to escape the torture we are putting it through. 

"More." She commands. 

Air isn't something I've practiced much; I'm hesitant as I pull more. It's hard not to make the clouds curious as they seem to follow the stream I'm creating. I feed the flame, and she grunts as she compresses the ball again, her hands struggling to contain the flames. 

I feel like I'm melting just standing here; the heat from the blaze is unreal. I'd trained hand-to-hand with her; nothing she'd thrown at me had ever felt this hot. Penelope's palms begin to smoke; I sense it's starting to scorch her clothes. We'd gifted her with chainmail sleeves, but she must wear a shirt under it, for her arms are nearly engulfed in flames. 

"Let go." I encourage. 

"Not yet! More!" She snaps. 

The ball is making a hissing, growling noise as it feeds on oxygen. Spinning rapidly like her blade in her hand, she yells in exertion as she compresses it once more. It's a beacon of white light: "Get back!" She screams at us and shoves the creation away, sending her flying back into Frost's chest, who seems too ready to catch her.

 Her hands are singed, and I hug her as we all dive for cover when the stone wall explodes. Stone rubble flies in all directions, crashing into trees and knocking down individuals as we all duck down behind whatever we can get behind. Before the call can be made, our lycan army pours past us into the city, and I clasp Penelope's hands to heal them before looking up to watch the invasion. 

I noticed Tonic is gone, among them, I presume. 

"It's started. We are at war."