The air in the war room was heavy with murmurs and parchment. Sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows of the Winterbell citadel, throwing fragmented colors across the long oak table where nobles, commanders, and envoys gathered in a tense semicircle. Flynn stood at the far end, silent, the light turning his white hair into a silver crown.
Khalid stood opposite him, arms folded, golden eyes unreadable.
"Reports say Elaris has been rearming," Duke Redmont muttered, sliding a scroll across the table. "And not just with swords. There's movement whispers of a new alliance brewing. One far more dangerous than before."
Flynn's violet eyes flicked toward the map. His pulse skipped. The Elaris crest hovered too close to Winterbell's border. Again.
He tried not to let it show.
"We need a preemptive strategy," said Elior, seated near Flynn. "If Elaris dares to threaten the peace—"
"They won't dare," Khalid interrupted smoothly. "Not without testing our reaction first. That's what this is. Provocation."
Flynn watched Khalid carefully. He never blinked when Elaris was mentioned. Not anymore. The betrayal had been buried under years of loyalty and earned trust but to Flynn, it still stank like fresh blood on snow.
But now, with the pieces moving again, Flynn's thoughts burned.
The enemy from five years ago is stirring.
The one Khalid once served.
"I suggest we send someone discreet," Flynn said calmly, finally speaking. "An observer. Not to confront, but to gather proof."
Khalid tilted his head. "You suspect Elaris is more involved than we're led to believe?"
"I suspect they never stopped being involved."
There was silence in the room. Even the old clock above the hearth seemed to hesitate.
Elior glanced sideways at Flynn, eyes narrowing. "You speak as if you know how Elaris thinks."
Flynn met his gaze without flinching. "I pay attention."
But deep down, Flynn felt the thread unraveling. Something had changed. He wasn't just reacting he was remembering.
That night the night the fortress fell.
The warmth of fire. The scent of steel and betrayal.
And Khalid, standing over him.
Flynn shook the memory from his eyes.
He needed to keep the past buried… but the cracks were widening.
Later That Night
Flynn stood alone in the corridor outside the council chamber, his fingers tracing the rough edges of a stone pillar. The flickering torchlight danced over the frost-etched walls.
Behind him, he felt a familiar presence.
"I would've thought you'd sleep," Khalid's voice came from the shadows.
"I rarely do," Flynn answered without turning.
Khalid moved beside him, gold eyes thoughtful, almost… careful. "You seemed tense today."
"I'm always tense when war is on the table."
Khalid chuckled lightly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You remind me of someone," he said. "Someone I once knew. A man too loyal for his own good."
Flynn looked at him then. "Did he die in the war?"
Khalid's smile faded.
"Yes," he said. "He died… because of a betrayal."
Flynn's throat tightened.
"I'm sorry," he lied.
Khalid turned to go. "We all have ghosts, Flynn. It's how we live with them that decides what comes next."
As his footsteps faded into the night, Flynn whispered under his breath:
"I live with mine every day."