Chapter 30: The Council's Ghosts

Livra remained in the small, grimy room under Balthar Drik’s orders. She wasn’t a prisoner, but a part of her trusted the man, so she obeyed.

Staring out the narrow window, her thoughts drifted to her father. Despite the iron fist he had ruled her life with, treating her more like a commodity than a child, his death still left a hollow ache in her chest. At least there was one consolation—she never had to return to Aelith Shore if she didn’t want to. For the first time, she felt free. No obligations to Lady Miren, no manipulations—just freedom to live her own life.

But guilt gnawed at her. How would she explain to Calen what she had done? That she had endangered him, sabotaged his career, and betrayed his trust? She hadn’t been honest. She owed him the truth, but she feared it might cost her the one person who now mattered most.

The door burst open suddenly, crashing against the wall.

Calen stood there, breathless, his long brown hair hanging messily over his face.

“Cale…” Livra began, but the words were lost as Calen crossed the room in a heartbeat, wrapping her in an embrace so tight she could hardly breathe. But she didn’t care.

It had only been days since they last saw each other, but the pain of their parting felt like an eternity. As if sensing the weight they both carried, Calen held her close, his hand resting gently against the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair. He tilted his head back slightly, his intense gaze locking onto hers, as though he feared this might be the last time he’d see her. Without hesitation, he leaned down and kissed her softly.

The world outside melted away—every betrayal, every death, every question—none of it mattered. For that brief moment, there was only them.

When they finally broke apart, breathless and unsteady, Calen whispered, “Livra, I—I’m sorry. I should have told you I saw Sienna. I promise, I’ll explain everything. But I need you to know… I never doubted being with you. I want to help you. And like I said, if it comes to it, we can leave everything behind. We can run. But first, I need to uncover the truth behind all of this. My friend Rion is dead, and—”

Livra silenced him with a finger to his lips, her expression pained. “Calen, I know about your friend. I was the one who found him.”

Calen froze, shock flashing across his face.

“And,” Livra continued, her voice trembling, “there are things I haven’t told you. About the festival, about… everything. I know who’s behind it all.”

In the quiet of the room, Livra confessed everything. Elenora Miren’s blackmail, her role in distracting him the night of the sabotage, the plan to trap him at the LCC, her father’s murder… and how, amidst it all, she had fallen hopelessly in love with him.

Calen sat there in stunned silence. The woman he loved had manipulated him, lied to him, played a role in the events that had destroyed his life and taken Rion’s.

“I’m sorry, Calen,” Livra whispered as tears streamed down her face.

Calen’s voice erupted, raw with emotion. “Then who killed Rion?”

“I don’t know…” Livra admitted, her voice breaking. “But if anyone could, it’s Lady Miren. Her thirst for power—”

“That’s where I come in to clear things up, kids,” Balthar Drik’s gravelly voice cut through the tension. He stood casually in the doorway, though his presence dominated the room.

“I don’t know if the old witch Miren had a hand in killing that other boy or Kael Torson,” Balthar said, stepping forward, “but I do know she won’t be doing anything else. She’s dead. And not just her—Rykesh Farlin, the richest merchant in the Earthlands, died alongside your father, Leontius, two nights ago in Tharvannis.”

“What?” Livra gasped.

“All these deaths—Torson, Miren, Farlin—this isn’t a coincidence. Those three were members of the Council of Four, a secretive group of power players from the Earthlands. The magistrates of Operientes Solem believe they were planning to seize control of the floating isles, to overthrow the ruling regime. And they think they know who’s responsible for all of this.”

“Who?” Calen demanded.

“Ava Lysan,” Balthar replied. “But I’ll tell you now, it sounds like a load of rubbish. I know the girl. A cripple who wouldn’t survive a stiff breeze. If she’s behind all this, she didn’t do it alone.”

“Lysan?” Calen repeated, his brow furrowed.

“That name…” Livra whispered. “I’ve heard of the Lysans. Years ago, there was a family from the Outer Continent who controlled most of the levicite mines. They were obsessed with its properties, experimenting to push its limits. There were rumors that they believed levicite could be turned into a weapon—a force strong enough to dominate the universe itself. But something went wrong. Eight years ago, there was an explosion that split the earth around Outer Continent. The entire family supposedly perished.”

“Almost the entire family,” Balthar corrected. “The girl, Ava, survived. Barely. She was trapped for days in the wreckage, and the radiation left her a broken shell. Rumors say she’s alive, but barely. Honestly, it’s hard to believe. Still, if anyone could pull off something like this, it’d be a Lysan. That family was brilliant—but mad as hell. The world breathed easier when they disappeared.”

“And what are we supposed to do?” Calen asked, his fists clenching. If Ava Lyssan—or someone using her name—was responsible for the sabotage, for Rion’s death, for Livra’s suffering, then she had to pay. But was she real, or just a ghost born of the magistrates’s paranoia?

“It’s simple, kid,” Balthar said. “The magistrates need proof that crippled girl is alive and orchestrating all of this. Without it, tensions between the Earthlands and Operientes Solem will spiral out of control. People are furious—three of their leaders are dead, and the water shipments to Aelith Shore never arrived. War is on the horizon, unless we bring the truth to light.”

“What are we looking for?” Livra asked.

“Valtheris mentioned that Amaris was infamous for its dealings with the Outer Continent. If there’s evidence to be found—letters, witnesses, anything—it’s here. That’s why you’re here, Calen. As a native of the Rainshadow Isles, you know this place better than anyone.”

Balthar grabbed his coat. “We leave now. I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night. Wars don’t wait.”

Without further discussion, the three of them left the inn. A strange trio—a young woman in an elegant white dress, a scruffy-haired boy still reeling from the weight of loss, and a grizzled mercenary built like a tree. An unlikely team, but together, they set out to search for the evidence that might stop a war.