All eyes turned to me.

  Evelyn's brows rose—not in surprise, but in something almost softer.

  I swallowed. "She saved me. When I was in trouble with the Royal Inquisitors, she was the one who risked her position to get me out. She has no reason to betray us now."

  Nyxara's gre sharpened. "Cire, you trust too easily."

  "...Sometimes," I admitted. "But not about her."

  Ferric growled, twisting against the roots. "I thought you were smarter than this, little priestling."

  Seraphine stepped beside me. "Evelyn has never shown ill intent toward Cire. Or toward any of us. You have my word as a fellow witch."

  The witches stayed silent, weighing us. Judging. Calcuting.

  Ysel's gaze drifted from Evelyn to me, then back again.

  "Very well," she said at st. "We accept her presence—for now. But her movements must remain restricted. And I will watch her closely."

  Evelyn tapped two fingers to her forehead in zy salute. "Fair enough. As long as I don't wake up getting strangled by vines."

  Ferric hissed in frustration. "Matron—"

  "Stand down," Ysel commanded. "All of you. New information has arrived. Our energy is better spent rethinking our preparations."

  He scoffed. "Again?"

  "Yes," I said. "Because this isn't just a rger crusader force. It's a different kind of war now."

  The roots released Ferric, who stumbled forward, scowling like he hadn't been three seconds from ripping them apart.

  I exhaled slowly, forcing my thoughts back into order.

  "Alright," I said, stepping toward the map-table. "We need to reframe the entire fight."

  I id my hands on the stump, grounding myself in the rough bark.

  "The Church's advance still depends on wide-area sanctification," I continued. "Pylons. Priests. Chant cycles. That part hasn't changed. But mercenaries don't py by their rules."

  Nyxara nodded her head. "The rescue doctrine no longer applies."

  "It doesn't," I said. "Not uniformly, at least. Wounded mercenaries are abandoned. Dead ones are written off. Which means attrition will not slow the push as long as they're present."

  Ferric's grin crept back. "Finally. Something you're not pretending you can finesse."

  I ignored him and shifted one of the markers forward, closer to the Forest's edge.

  "As long as the Night Wardens are screening the advance, the column can keep moving," I said. "If we try to py this the same way we'd pnned, they may reach the Great Tree before the machine feels any strain."

  Ysel's expression darkened. "Then the expendable yer must be removed."

  "Yes," I said. "First and foremost."

  Silence fell.

  I rearranged the stones, separating them into two distinct flows.

  "The mercenaries are the priority target. To eliminate their ability to keep the march moving."

  Ferric folded his arms. "Now you're speaking my nguage."

  Rocher's jaw tightened.

  "Don't get excited just yet," I said quickly. "This is still controlled. Fast, decisive strikes. No drawn-out engagements. We take them out of py and disappear before the padins can respond in mass."

  Nyxara studied the new yout. "And while that happens?"

  "While that happens," I said, "we continue to attrition the Church's army. Wounds. Rescues. Ritual fatigue. We make every step inside the Forest cost them more time than it buys."

  Seraphine nodded slowly. "Two fronts. One battlefield."

  I shifted another marker, this one behind the cordon itself.

  "Three fronts. Remember—they'd originally pnned to deploy two pylons," I said. "Which means they'll have a second cordon ready in case the first one falls. They can position their reserves and supply routes inside the safety that double yer affords."

  I breathed. "Since my fighting ability isn't diminished in the sanctified zone, I'll be heading in to sabotage it."

  "I'm going with you," Rocher said immediately.

  "No." I slid his marker outward, beyond the cordon's projected edge. "You'll move with Seraphine to injure the stragglers while Ferric and Nyxara slow the advance. We need you outside the cordon where your strength isn't compromised. Now that the Night Wardens are in py, we should concentrate the bulk of our strength there."

  "You can't go in alone," he said sharply.

  Before I could answer, Evelyn spoke.

  "She's not going in alone," she said, tapping the edge of the table. She looked at me. "That's your pn, right?"

  All eyes turned to her.

  "My abilities don't rely on spellcasting either," Evelyn continued calmly. "And I already know how the Crown Prince thinks. If there's a second pylon, I can find it. And I can move without announcing myself."

  The clearing went quiet.

  Nyxara's eyes glittered with interest.

  Ysel watched me closely. "You would trust her with this?"

  I didn't answer immediately. I looked at the map. At the split fronts. At the narrowing window.

  "Yes," I said at st. "I would."

  Rocher stared at the map, silent.

  Ferric cracked his neck. "Finally. A fight that doesn't end with you telling me to pull punches."

  "Don't get sloppy," I said. "Speed matters more than spectacle."

  He grinned anyway.

  I straightened, taking in all of it.

  More enemies were coming. More danger.

  But—

  We weren't alone.We weren't blind.And we weren't out of time yet.

  "It's not perfect," I said.

  "No pn ever is," Evelyn answered.

  Seraphine's voice came sharply behind me. "But it'll be enough."

  By morning, the gde had returned to its usual rhythm—drills, training, the hum of the vigil being kept through the trees.

  I watched from the edge of the gde as Rocher tried once again to anchor Ferric's magic. His mana slipped at the point of amplification every time, like a rope fraying under strain.

  "Try easing up at the beginning," I said quietly. "You're overloading the spell before it stabilizes."

  He nodded, focused, and tried again.

  The spark fred——caught——and detonated in his palm with a sharp pop.

  I winced. "Sorry, I thought—"

  "No." He shook out his hand. "It helps. Hearing what you see. Even if I'm a slow learner."

  He gave me a small smile.

  Too gentle. Too careful.

  It made something inside me twist. I pressed a hand to my chest without thinking.

  Our eyes met for a moment before we both looked away.

  Evelyn, who had been sharpening her dagger on a fallen log, finally let out a long-suffering sigh.

  "Alright," she said. "One of you needs to expin why you're acting like you buried a body together."

  Rocher flinched. I stared at the ground.

  Her eyes narrowed. "Let me guess. Did one of you reject the other? Cire, I bet it was you."

  "What? No," I said too fast.

  She studied us for a moment.

  Rocher rubbed the back of his neck. I picked at a loose thread on my sleeve.

  A flicker of realization crossed Evelyn's face. "Hold on." She pointed between us. "Did you two... finally get together?"

  Rocher made a quiet choking noise.

  My face burned hot enough to rival Ferric's witchfire.

  Evelyn's mouth fell open. "You did." She leaned forward, delighted. "Now this I have to hear. How'd the confession go? Can't wait to tell this around the campfire."

  Rocher tried to speak and only produced something unintelligible. The moment wasn't exactly chaste.

  After a moment of filing, I managed to squeak out, "Don't worry about it—it's nothing worth mentioning."

  Evelyn blinked slowly. Once. Twice.

  "…Oh." She leaned back on her hands and looked between us again, actually looking this time.

  "You two have done nothing but fuck, haven't you?" she said ftly. "Ever since you started... whatever this is."

  We both went utterly, damningly silent.

  "Okay." Evelyn dragged a hand down her face. "That expins everything. Knowing you two, you never once talked about it."

  "We're trying," I said, too defensively.

  "No," she cut in. "You're avoiding the hard conversations."

  We both stared at her. Evelyn tapped the dagger against the log, sighing.

  "Look. I'm not saying sex is bad. It's just..." She made a vague motion with her hand, like trying to grab smoke. "It makes you feel like you've solved something you haven't actually solved yet."

  She gnced at Rocher. "Everything's simple until the point you're not touching—then every separation, every insecurity gets loud."

  His eyes dropped to the ground.

  Then she turned to look at me. "If you don't build something solid underneath it, then coming down just feels like falling."

  My chest tightened. Because she was right.

  Something clicked painfully in my head.

  I stared at Rocher, wide-eyed. I realized I'd been relying too much on his experience.

  But what experience was that, exactly? Flings. Surface-level connections.

  He'd only ever practiced wanting, never keeping. I was the first he'd ever tried to reach for more.

  Rocher let out a shaky breath.

  Evelyn's gaze softened. "You're both new at this. Stop assuming the other one has a map."

  He finally looked up at me. It felt like our eyes had met for the first time in a while.

  Something unguarded flickered across his face—lost, unsure, wanting to do better.

  And suddenly it fell into pce.

  "Rocher..." I said slowly, "you're doing the same thing with Ferric's magic."

  He blinked. "What?"

  "The magic—you're forcing the connection before anchoring it. Relying on momentum to carry you forward. That's why it's hit-or-miss."

  Rocher went very still, as if the thought hit somepce deep.

  "Activate it again." I stepped forward and took his hand, looking up at him. "Let's read it together. Carefully this time."

  Evelyn stood, brushing off her pants. "Great. Cire's in work mode now. Guess the heart-to-heart is postponed."

  She sheathed her dagger with a click, grumbled something about emotional incompetence, and walked off.

  The rest of the day passed in that fragile, almost-functional rhythm.

  Something unspoken eased—just barely—between us.