Chapter Twelve

The Siege of the Veil Fortuna

The attack came at dusk.

The Fortuna Veil shimmered under the glow of its enchanted lanterns, its marble columns and golden balconies untouched by the chaos brewing beyond its walls. But Nyx felt it before she saw it. A ripple in the enchantments. A crack in the spellwork that should have been impenetrable.

Then came the first explosion.

A blast of magic struck the outer gates, sending shockwaves through the structure. Wards flared, and runes hissed against the intrusion, but the defenses did not react as they should have. They flickered—weaker than before.

Nyx’s heart pounded. They were testing her.

From her vantage point on the upper balcony, she could see them now—Thalrasi warriors moving like shadows through the city’s streets, slipping through alleys, preparing for a full assault. The attack was too precise, too coordinated.

They had learned.

The outer defenses should have obliterated them before they reached the gates. Still, they were adapting, unraveling the protections that had once made the Fortuna Veil untouchable.

Nyx turned sharply toward the floor below. “Reinforce the northern perimeter,” she commanded into the enchanted earpiece. “They’re probing our weak spots.”

The security teams responded immediately, moving silently, but the realization had already settled deep in Nyx’s gut. This wasn’t an attempt to take the fortress—it was a test.

A brutal one.

The Counterstrike

Magic surged from the walls, and defensive runes sparked as they repelled incoming fire. The Thalrasi advanced in waves, pushing against the enchantments and forcing them to hold.

A second blast rocked the ground. Then, a third.

Nyx’s lips pressed into a thin line. Enough.

She reached for the radio embedded in her wrist. “Summon the Iron Veil.”

The response was immediate.

From the darkened corridors of the casino, a force of warriors emerged.

The Thalrasi had come expecting Elysia. Instead, they found annihilation.

As the last of the Thalrasi forces retreated, Nyx turned away. They would come back. And next time, they would be stronger.

She activated the comm crystal again. “Schedule a meeting at the Lux Arcana. The inner circle needs to see this.”

The war had begun.

And they were already running out of time.

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The War Council

The Midnight Mirage stood silent under the cloak of night, its usual hum of laughter and music subdued beneath the weight of what had just transpired. The attack on Veil Fortuna had been a declaration.

The Thalrasi had made their move.

The Inner Circle gathered inside the casino’s private lounge, the tension thick enough to cut. Nyx stood near the bar, arms crossed, her expression sharp and unreadable. Malrik remained a silent force in the corner, his crimson gaze betraying nothing. Astrid sat still with her hands folded, but her silver eyes held the remnants of a vision she had yet to share.

Dorian leaned against the table, fingers tapping against the polished wood. At the same time, Valarian reclined in his chair, studying the room like a gambler about to make his next play. At the head of the table, Ronan stood unmoving, the storm in his golden eyes unrelenting.

“They weren’t trying to take Veil Fortuna,” Nyx said. “They were testing us.”

Malrik nodded. “And they were learning. Our defenses still held, but their precision was different. They’re adapting.”

Astrid exhaled, pressing her fingers to her temples. “They will attack again. And next time, they won’t pull back so easily.”

Silence settled over them. The truth hung between them, undeniable. The Thalrasi had broken the neutrality of the sanctuaries.

This was war.

Mobilizing the Resistance

“The other factions already know what happened,” Dorian said. “The supernatural resistance is mobilizing. They understand what this means.”

Ronan nodded. “We reinforce every sanctuary. We don’t wait for them to come to us—we prepare for when they do.”

He turned his gaze to Malrik, Nyx, and Astrid. “The three of you will oversee the upgrades to our security. I don’t care what it costs, everything needs to be reinforced.”

Nyx smirked. “Consider it done.”

“Astrid,” Ronan continued, “if you see anything—anything—we don’t wait. We act.”

Astrid gave a slow nod. “We’ll need to be careful. They’re hiding something, but I don’t know what. Not yet.”

Ronan turned to Valarian and Dorian. “Reach out to the resistance factions. Find out what they need. If they don’t have weapons, we get them weapons. If they don’t have fighters, we send them fighters.”

Dorian exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll set up meetings with the faction leaders. We’ll need every ally we can get.”

Ronan’s voice dropped, cold and firm. “We’re out of time. It’s begun.”

Elysia’s Fire

Dorian pushed off from the table, fixing Ronan with a knowing look. “And what about Elysia?”

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Ronan inhaled deeply, jaw clenching. “She remembers.”

A ripple of silence passed through the room.

Dorian studied him for a long moment before nodding. “That means she’ll need training.”

Ronan exhaled slowly. “The Thalrasi didn’t take everything. Her fire is still there, but it’s weak. She needs someone we can trust to help her strengthen it. If we can train her, she won’t be left so vulnerable.”

Dorian tapped his fingers against the table. “I’ll find someone. It’ll have to be the right kind of teacher—not just anyone can handle training a Phoenix, let alone one whose fire was nearly taken from her.”

Ronan nodded, his voice edged with determination. “Do it quickly. We may not have much time.”

The War Room

The Midnight Mirage was no longer just a sanctuary—it was now a war camp.

A war room had been established below the casino. The underground chamber was lined with enchanted maps, security feeds, and communication lines connecting every sanctuary. This would be their strategy hub, their command center.

But what is their actual base of operations? The Lux Arcana.

Ronan, Elysia, and Dorian would return to Lux Arcana, where the war would be orchestrated. Every movement, every counterstrike, every decision would start from there.

The battle had been coming for years.

Now, it was here.

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The Last Phoenix

The air around them folded in on itself, thick shadows wrapping around Elysia, Ronan, and Dorian like living tendrils as they stepped into the abyss of shadow gliding.

Elysia’s stomach twisted—the feeling of movement without moving, of slipping between places that should never touch. She had traveled this way once before, but it still felt unnatural, like something pulling at the edges of her existence, testing her reality.

A heartbeat later, the world snapped back into place.

Lux Arcana: The Throne of Power

The first thing Elysia noticed was the air—it hummed not just with magic but with something deeper, something woven into the very foundation of the towering sanctuary—power, secrets, a thousand whispered deals made within these walls.

The grand marble hall stretched before her, towering columns of white stone streaked with veins of gold. It was not gaudy—elegant—timeless. The floor beneath her boots gleamed like polished starlight, an illusion of infinite depth. Chandeliers of floating crystal hung in midair, casting a soft golden glow that pulsed in rhythm with the wards embedded into the architecture.

The scent of enchanted incense and aged magic curled through the halls, familiar yet different from anything she had known. She had expected the Lux Arcana to feel like a war room, but instead, it felt like a palace before a siege.

Despite the beauty, Elysia couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched.

She turned her gaze toward the intricate tapestries that lined the walls—maps of supernatural territories, shifting in real-time, their borders etched in glowing silver runes. There was no mistaking it now. The Lux Arcana wasn’t just a sanctuary.

It was the nerve center of the supernatural resistance.

Dorian pulled out his mobile phone, his expression darkening as he turned away from them. “I need to make a call.”

Ronan narrowed his eyes. “To who?”

Dorian hesitated for a beat, then sighed. “Astrid gave me a name before we left. The only one who can help Elysia regain control of her fire.”

Elysia’s breath caught. She had assumed she would be alone in making her fire burn as it once did. But Astrid had already seen what needed to be done.

“Who is he?” she asked, voice cautious.

Dorian glanced at her before pressing the phone to his ear. “Soric Varos.”

Ronan stiffened. Even Elysia felt the weight of the name settles over them like a shadow.

She had never heard of him. But Ronan had.

“Varos is still alive?” Ronan asked, his voice low, almost disbelieving.

Dorian nodded grimly. “Alive is a loose definition when it comes to him.”

Elysia frowned. “Who is he?”

Dorian took a slow breath before answering. “Once, they called him the Last Phoenix. He was supposed to be the final ember of his kind—the only one the Thalrasi didn’t kill outright. But he isn’t whole. Not anymore.”

Ronan’s expression remained unreadable, but something haunted his gaze.

Dorian continued, “When the Thalrasi tried to take his Phoenix Core, he did something no one expected—he burned himself out before they could finish. He severed his own cycle, choosing to live in a state of half-fire, half-being.”

Elysia shivered at the thought. “So he’s… what? Not really a Phoenix anymore?”

Dorian shook his head. “Not by definition. He doesn’t fully regenerate. He doesn’t truly burn. He’s stuck in between, neither living nor dying. But one thing’s for sure.”

He turned to meet her eyes. “He will do whatever it takes to make sure the last Phoenix doesn’t fall like he did.”

Summoning the Phoenix That Shouldn’t Exist

Dorian scrolled through his contacts, selecting a number, his voice carrying through the encrypted supernatural network.

“Varos. It’s Dorian Veyne. We need to talk.”

Silence. A long beat of nothing. Then—

A low, raspy chuckle came through the speakerphone. “You’re either desperate or stupid to be calling me, Veyne. Probably both.”

Dorian smirked. “Little of Column A, little of Column B.”

Another pause. Then, a sigh. “What do you want?”

Dorian glanced at Elysia. “We have a Phoenix who needs to learn how to burn again. And we both know there’s no one else who can teach her.”

Another long silence.

Then—

“Lux Arcana. Three days. If I don’t like what I see, I leave. And if she’s weak, I won’t waste my time.”

The line went dead.

Elysia exhaled slowly. “Well. He sounds charming.”

Dorian chuckled darkly. “You’ll see. If he actually shows up.”

Ronan’s expression remained serious. “He’ll show up.”

image [https://cdn-gcs.inkitt.com/story_images/big_cc9dc1304ffb28023e9458f242f555dd.png]

Soric "Ash" Varos, Ancient Phoenix

Soric “Ash” Varos – The Phoenix That Shouldn’t Exist

When Soric arrived, he did not walk—he burned.

His ashen skin was cracked with veins of molten gold as if his fire had turned against him and left him half-charred, half-living. His eyes smoldered with deep embers, burning from within, never fading, never fully igniting. His hair—wild, a tangled mess of scorched black and ember-red—moved as if caught in an invisible wind.

The heat around him warped the air, distorting his figure as though the universe itself wasn’t sure whether he should exist.

He was neither alive nor dead.

Neither whole nor broken.

And as those burning eyes met Elysia’s, she understood why he was the only one who could teach her.

Because he had already lived her worst nightmare.

And survived.

The air in the underground chamber was thick with incense and old magic. Candles flickered, golden light casting long, distorted shadows on the walls. Elysia stood in the center, hands clenched at her sides, watching the man across from her with cautious determination.

He was older than she expected, though not in a way that suggested frailty. His silver-threaded molten hair was pulled back, revealing sharp features and a gaze piercing her like a blade. Power radiated from him—restrained but ever-present, like a wildfire waiting for the right gust of wind.

“You’re smaller than I expected,” he said, his voice low and rough, worn with years of use.

Elysia arched a brow. “You’re more talkative than I expected.”

A smirk tugged at his lips but didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Call me Ash,” he said, voice unreadable.

Elysia hesitated, weighing the sudden shift in formality, but then nodded. “Ash,” she repeated.

He studied her, then, with a flick of his wrist, sent a pulse of energy toward her. It wasn’t a direct attack but a test she barely had time to react to. Instinct took over. Heat flared beneath her skin, a golden glow igniting at her fingertips as she pushed back with her magic. It's force sent a sharp gust through the chamber, snuffing half the candles.

For a moment, she thought she had impressed him. But Ash’s expression remained unreadable.

“You still have power,” he admitted, circling her like a predator measuring prey. “But your control is weak. Unfocused.”

Elysia exhaled sharply, shoving back the sting of frustration. “I can fix that.”

“You’ll have to,” Ash said coolly. “They didn’t extract your full core. That means there’s a chance we can restore what you lost.”

Elysia’s breath caught. Hope and fury warred within her. “You really think I can regain everything?”

Ash’s dark gaze locked onto hers. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether you still have what it took to get there in the first place.”

His challenge struck a chord deep within her. The Thalrasi had taken everything from her—her power, past, and people—but they had not broken her.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” she vowed.

Ash studied her for a long moment before nodding. “Good. Because this won’t be easy.”

Elysia lifted her chin, her expression turning to steel. “Someday, I’ll use that power to make the Thalrasi pay for what they’ve done—to both of our kinds.”

A shadow passed through Ash’s eyes, something unreadable yet knowing.

“We’ll see if you’re strong enough to survive long enough to do that.”

And with that, the actual training began.